Under The Influence
by Red Hardy
Summary: Police Chief Ezra Collig and Detective Con Riley respond to a domestic violence call at a familiar address which they assume must be a mistake. However, when they arrive on the scene, they realize nothing could have prepared them for what they find.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first story in my little Hardy AU series. I actually wrote it several years ago so it's already completed. No need to wonder if there'll be months between chapter updates or the story will be abandoned halfway through. :) 

However this was also written early in my 'writing career' before a very helpful soul pointed out that you should stick with one character's POV per scene. I'll be honest, if I waited until I had time to 'rewrite' it, the story would never get posted here. So I apologize in advance and hope the multiple POV's aren't too distracting.

This is an AU story (as is my whole series). The boys have graduated from college and joined Fenton's practice. Frank is 24 and he and Callie are newlyweds. Joe is 23 and he and Vanessa are living together. Hope you enjoy it.

Oh yeah… as my buddy Phoenix says, this is a Nancy Drew Free Zone. No offense to the girl detective but if you're looking for Nancy, you won't find her here.

oooooOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 1**

Detective Con Riley stared out the passenger side window of the patrol car. The brown haired, hazel-eyed police veteran couldn't believe his awful luck.

_'Out of all the people on the force, I get stuck with him.'_ He sighed, sinking lower in the seat. _'Why couldn't I have been one of the lucky ones to get the flu…'_

Within the last week, the flu had quickly swept through the Bayport Police Department, decimating the number of officers available for street patrol. It had gotten so bad that everyone from Police Chief Ezra Collig on down had been assigned to patrol the streets of Bayport.

Riley was lamenting the unseen forces of the universe that had paired him with Ezra Collig that night. Although he was in his mid-fifties with iron-gray hair, Chief Collig could still outdo most of the rookies in the department's annual physical aptitude and agility tests.

"Something wrong, Riley?" His boss asked gruffly.

"No, sir. Nothing." _'The least he could have done was let me drive,'_ Riley thought, sourly.

"Been a long time since I've been on street patrol."

_'He almost sounds like he's enjoying this!'_ Riley was saved from further conversation by the crackle of the radio.

"Available units, please check the domestic violence call at 128 Orchard Lane, Apartment 2B," the disembodied voice requested.

Writing down the address, Con frowned. Picking up the microphone, he asked the dispatcher to recheck the address.

"Confirming address. 128 Orchard Lane, Apartment 2B."

"Are you sure it's a domestic violence call?" he asked with concern.

"Confirming call. Domestic violence disturbance," the dispatcher replied, obviously getting a little annoyed.

"What?" Collig asked, noting the look on Con's face.

"This can't be right. There has to be a mistake. In the address…the type of call…something."

"Why? Do you know who lives there?"

"Yes. And so do you."

Collig raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"Joe Hardy and Vanessa Bender," Riley replied staring out the window.

oooOOOooo

Arriving at the apartment complex, Collig and Riley were met outside by the manager of the complex, a stout, balding, middle-aged man.

"Arthur Doyle," he said extending his hand and leading them into the building. "I just couldn't believe it. I happen to live right below them, ya know? I'm sitting here watching Jeopardy and all of sudden I hear yelling. Pounding on the floor, like someone was running. Then I hear a scream." He shivered at the memory.

"It was her. Don't know what he did to her but she screamed like she was afraid for her life. I could hear him yelling, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. Then she screams one more time and then…nothing." While he was talking he had been leading the two officers up the stairs. "I called his father, too. He's a good man, Fenton Hardy. Can't believe one of his boys would do something like this." He shook his head, referring to the world-renowned private investigator and his two sons, Frank and Joe, who were partners in his practice. "I know they were raised better than that," he mumbled.

Upon reaching the second floor, they were met by two other officers who had also answered the call. Collig directed them to wait at the top of the stairs as he, Riley and Doyle approached the door to Apartment 2B.

"You have a master key?" Collig asked the manager, who nodded in reply.

Stopping in front of the door, Con knocked and stepped aside, waiting for some kind of response. Getting none, he knocked again.

"Joe?" he called out. "Vanessa? You in there?"

He leaned closer to the door, but still heard nothing. He knocked one more time, much harder.

"Come on, Joe! Open up!" he yelled.

He looked worriedly at Chief Collig who turned and gave a slight nod to Mr. Doyle. The man used his master key to unlock the door to Joe and Vanessa's apartment and then stepped back. Collig motioned for him to retreat down the hall, behind the safety of the two officers stationed at the top of the stairs.

Guns drawn, Riley and Collig were about to open the door when they heard a commotion. Looking up, they saw Fenton and Frank Hardy arguing with the two other officers. Both tall and lean, with matching brown hair and dark brown eyes, twenty-four year old Frank was a mirror image of his father. His brother Joe, one year younger, was the complete physical opposite of them, with his muscular build, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

"They're okay," Collig called out.

Rushing down the hall, Fenton asked, "What's going on?" every inch the concerned father.

"We don't know yet. We got a request from dispatch to check out a domestic violence call here. We've knocked a few times but neither one of them is answering. Mr. Doyle just unlocked the door. It was dead bolted - from the inside I assume."

Frank stepped forward, reaching for the doorknob. He knew Joe would have answered the door immediately if he had been able to. Collig grabbed his hand preventing him from touching the handle.

"We go in first, Frank. We have no idea what's going on in there."

Frank was about to protest when he felt a hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back.

"They go first," his father said softly. Frank obediently took a few steps back and stood next to his father.

Gently pushing the door open, Con Riley and Ezra Collig cautiously entered the apartment. Looking around they saw nothing out of the ordinary. The television was on, the volume turned down low. That day's newspaper lay on the couch opened to the Sports section. A plate with two slices of pizza sat on the coffee table, one half-eaten, along with a napkin and a glass of soda.

Collig walked towards the kitchen at the same time silently pointing down the hall towards the bedroom. He nodded at the two other officers who had now joined them, and they started down the hall.

Approaching the kitchen, Collig and Riley heard a slight movement and ragged, heavy breathing. Getting closer, they saw pieces of broken glass on the floor and a dark brown liquid that looked like soda. Walking further into the kitchen, they noticed the brown liquid started to mingle with a familiar looking red liquid…blood.

Taking a few more steps, they saw a pair of long legs, obviously female, unmoving on the floor. Con felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, knowing he was not going to like what he saw.

Inching ever closer, he turned into the kitchen and stopped, all the color draining from his face. Turning to his boss, he was sure Ezra Collig's expression matched his own.

Hearing footsteps, he turned to see Frank and Fenton rapidly approaching.

"No!" Riley put his hands out to stop them before they got to the kitchen.

Collig also moved towards the pair, trying to impede their progress.

Alarmed, Frank tried to force his way past Con, rushing towards the kitchen, succeeding in dragging Con along with him. He got as far as the entrance of the kitchen when he felt himself being grabbed by more hands and dragged backwards.

"Let me see!" he struggled to get free. "JOE!" he called out.

The only response was a loud wail from the kitchen, stopping Frank immediately. Although it sounded like a cornered, wounded animal, Frank knew it was his brother.

Frank saw a flash of movement. Collig, Riley and the two officers had been so distracted by him they had paid no attention to Fenton, who rushed past Frank and the four men holding him back and swiftly made his way to the kitchen.

He inhaled sharply, one hand covering his mouth. White as a sheet, he leaned against the counter for support. Eyes wide, unable to process what he was seeing, he tried to speak but no sound came out.

"Dad, what is it?" Frank cried out, now terrified. "Tell me, please!" he yelled, once again struggling to break free. With a strength he didn't know he possessed he pulled away and ran to his father's side, Riley and Collig right behind him.

Coming to a stop next to his father, Frank stared in disbelief. He felt his father grab his arm. He was vaguely aware of his father clutching his arm so tightly that it started to hurt. He had to be dreaming; this was not possible. He blinked a few times but the scene before his eyes did not change.

Lying, unmoving, in the middle of the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass, soda and an ever increasing pool of blood was Joe's girlfriend, Vanessa Bender. Her ash blonde hair partially covered her face. One arm rested across her body, the other fell at an awkward angle near her head. From this distance it was impossible to tell whether or not she was actually breathing.

A few feet past her, crouched on the floor leaning against the cabinets, was Joe. His blue eyes were wide with fear, seemingly unable to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. His gaze shifted wildly from Vanessa to the four men now staring at him and back again, and then quickly scanned the room as if looking for something or someone he obviously did not want to see. To Frank, Fenton, Con, and Ezra it was not the look on his face, or Joe's bizarre behavior that concerned them most. What was truly terrifying was the large kitchen knife clutched in his hands, steadily dripping blood into a small puddle at his feet.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Special thanks to Hbwgonnabe for allowing me to use incidents in her two part story Road To Heaven/Highway From Hell for background.

**Under The Influence**

**Chatper 2**

Ezra Collig, Con Riley, Fenton and Frank Hardy stared open mouthed at the scene before them. It appeared to be straight out of a horror movie.

After looking at his boss and getting an affirmative nod, Riley took a few tentative steps towards Vanessa. Crouching down, he reached out to check for a pulse. Instantly Joe was on his feet, yelling incoherently and lunging at Con with the knife. Collig and the two other officers raised their guns and took aim at Joe, prepared to shoot him if necessary, to protect their fellow officer.

"NO!" Frank cried out, jumping in front of them. In a rush of adrenaline, he grabbed Joe's arms, pushing upwards and forced him backwards against the counter, sidestepping Vanessa's body on the floor. Joe continued to yell at them, making no sense, now trying to bring the knife down on Frank.

_'I had no idea he was this strong!'_ Frank thought, struggling desperately to keep his brother from plunging the knife into his chest.

Suddenly his father was at his side, also trying to subdue Joe. Frank could tell by the look on his fathers face he too was stunned at Joe's strength. Slowly, Joe seemed to be winning the battle.

'_I'm so sorry, Joe,'_ Frank thought punching Joe in the stomach as hard as he could.

Just as he hoped, Joe released the knife, which clattered harmlessly to the floor, and doubled over gasping for air. Immediately Fenton grabbed Joe by the arm and spun him around. Pulling Joe's arm behind his back, he forced Joe against the counter, leaning hard against him so Joe could barely move. Frank grabbed Joe's other arm also pulling it behind his back. With lightning speed, Ezra Collig had Joe handcuffed and kneeling on the floor.

Even in this position, Joe was fighting back, trying to get loose. Just then, the EMT's that had been called came bustling through the door.

"I need one of you over here!" Collig called out.

One of them went immediately to check on Vanessa while the second rushed to Collig's side.

"We can't transport him like this. Can you give him something?"

The EMT pulled open his kit and quickly filled a syringe. Struggling for a moment to hit the moving target Joe had become, he finally pulled back in frustration.

"Hold him still!" he ordered. "I can't get anywhere near him like this."

He waited as Collig, Frank and Fenton did their best to hold Joe down. Expertly, the EMT plunged the needle into Joe's arm. In less than a minute, his eyes closed as Joe slumped forward into his father's arms.

Quickly, Collig unlocked the handcuffs and Fenton gently laid his son on the floor. He stood up as the EMT began to systematically check Joe for any sign of injury. For the first time he had a chance to really survey the scene.

The door had been locked and deadbolted when the police arrived. There was no sign of forced entry. There appeared to be no sign of a struggle anywhere other than the kitchen. His gaze swept the room and stopped on his two sons - Joe lying on the floor now unconscious, courtesy of whatever drug the EMT had injected him with and Frank kneeling anxiously over his younger brother.

Looking past his sons, he saw Vanessa and his heart caught in this throat. The second EMT was feverishly working on her, checking vital signs and hooking up an I.V. At least that meant she was alive. When he had first seen her, splayed on the floor so unnaturally still, he had immediately thought she was dead.

A hand on his shoulder caused Fenton to look up. Locking eyes with Ezra Collig he whispered, "What happened here?"

Collig shook his head sadly, looking at his friend. "We got a call to check out a domestic violence disturbance. Con recognized the address immediately. He had dispatch double check both the address and the type of call. I just can't believe it…" He let his voice trail off looking at the devastation in the kitchen.

Con came to stand beside his boss, looking shell shocked, and cleared his throat.

"Vanessa is in pretty bad shape. She's been stabbed in the back several times. She's having a lot of trouble breathing; they think the knife may have punctured a lung when he stabbed her."

"No!" Fenton shook his head looking once again at his unconscious son on the floor. "Joe did _not_ do this! He would never, _ever_ hurt her," he said vehemently.

"There's more…apparently she hit her head when she fell. Her pupils are dilated and unresponsive. They think she might have a skull fracture."

His examination complete, Joe was loaded on to a stretcher.

"How is he?" Fenton asked the EMT.

The man shrugged, puzzled. "There's not a scratch on him. They'll do a blood test at the hospital to check for drugs and alcohol."

"He doesn't drink and he would NEVER take drugs!" Frank said, angrily.

As they started to wheel Joe out of the apartment, Frank followed closely.

"Wait," Chief Collig called out. "You can't go with him, Frank."

"What? Why not?"

Collig signaled to one of his officers and then pointed at Joe. "Ride with him to the hospital."

"No!" Frank cried out, as they wheeled his brother from the apartment complete with a police escort.

"You can't be serious!" Fenton shouted, knowing what it meant for a police officer to accompany Joe in the ambulance. Once Joe awoke at the hospital, he would be charged with any number of criminal offenses.

Chief Collig looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Fenton. I have no choice."

"You've known Joe since he was a child! You can't possibly believe he did this! You know how he feels about Vanessa. He'd kill anyone who tried to hurt her. He _didn't_ do this!"

"My opinion doesn't count here and you know that. I have to go strictly by the evidence."

As if on cue, an officer approached the small group. "Sir? We found this in the bedroom."

"That's Joe's gym bag," Frank said, trying to grab it. "What are you doing with it?"

The officer pulled the bag out of Frank's reach. "This was inside," he said to Collig.

Extending his other hand he presented a plastic baggie containing a syringe, a small rubber tube, a spoon, a cigarette lighter and a smaller bag with a rather large quantity of a white, powdery substance.

Franks eyes grew wide. "No," he said hoarsely. "He doesn't use drugs."

At those words, he saw his father visibly flinch. Their eyes met and he knew they were both thinking back several years earlier when Joe had been kidnapped and forcibly injected with heroin. He had been admitted to a drug treatment center but the doctors found that Joe had not been on the drug long enough to form an addiction…or had he?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Once again, many thanks to Hbwgonnabe for allowing me to refer to her "Heaven/Hell" stories.

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 3**

A deafening silence hung in the air as they all contemplated Frank's immediate defense of his younger brother. With a slight nod from the Chief, the officer returned the items to Joe's gym bag and retreated into the background.

"Fenton," Collig began gently, "I know it's been a long time, but are you sure Joe spent enough time in rehab?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Fenton snapped. "He was never addicted. Not like that. Not then and not now."

Like most of the Hardys' close friends, Collig knew of Joe's short stint in drug rehab almost six years earlier. While he had to admit they had barely begun investigating, so far every shred of evidence pointed to Joe as Vanessa's assailant. And while Collig knew without a doubt that Joe would never even contemplate doing such a thing while sober, he had seen far too much of what could happen once people were under the influence of drugs.

'_It would certainly explain this,'_ Collig thought, depressed, as he let his gaze wander over the room, coming to rest on Fenton. "Then how else do you explain it?" he asked in the same gentle tone, waving his hand around the room.

"Joe was framed," Frank replied for his father, not a shred of doubt in his voice. "He was set up."

Collig looked at him dubiously. "Frank, the door was locked when we got here. Locked and deadbolted. There is no sign of forced entry. The landlord lives right below them. He heard Joe yelling, Vanessa screaming. He didn't hear any other voices. Joe was holding the weapon in his hands. You saw him. He was obviously under the influence of…something. And we found drugs in what _you_ identified as his gym bag. All the evidence points to…"

"I don't care what the evidence points to!" Frank yelled. "Joe did not do this!"

"Then who did?" Collig challenged, crossing his arms over his chest, his patience growing thin.

"I don't know," Frank replied, quickly regaining his composure. "But I intend to find out."

"Now, wait a minute, Frank…"

"Are you going to look for anyone else?" Fenton asked Collig with a piercing look. "Or have you already decided Joe did it and there's no need to investigate any further?"

Surprising even himself, Collig didn't react to the accusatory tone in Fenton's voice. _'It's his son we're talking about. Of course he doesn't want to believe it. Hell, I don't want to believe it myself.'_

"I can't answer that until the Evidence Collection Team arrives and we've retrieved every possible piece of evidence. Once that's been done and we've interviewed Joe and Vanessa…then I'll decide if there's a need to investigate any further," Collig replied evenly.

"You'll understand if we'd rather not wait that long," Frank said coolly.

"_**You**_ will understand that you are not to interfere in this investigation," Collig shot back. "I know it's ridiculous to tell you to leave it to us. But I will not have you hampering the investigation in any way. Is that clear?" Collig directed the question to both Frank and Fenton.

"Of course," Fenton replied. "Will you at least share what you find with us?"

Collig sighed, the anger quickly draining away. "You know I will. I know I have to move strictly on the evidence, but I don't have to like it. Nothing would make me happier than for you to pull a rabbit out of your hat and give me someone other than Joe to pin this on." He saw some of the tension in his friend's face begin to dissipate. "You can stay and watch if you like. Just don't get in the way."

"Thank you," Fenton replied, gratefully. Taking Frank by the arm, Fenton stepped back a little so they could see everything going on, yet still be out of the way of the officers. Watching intently, Fenton seemed to take in every movement the officers made. What they touched, what they looked at, what they picked up and what they put down. Most important of all, what they kept as evidence. As Fenton's eyes continually monitored the progress of the officers, Con Riley stepped up beside Frank.

"The Chief noticed that the sliding glass door was open," he commented as if making conversation.

"They always leave it open when it's warm out," Frank replied absently, also watching the progress of the investigation. "Until they go to bed."

"Kind of interesting, don't you think. The front door is locked and deadbolted. But the sliding glass door is left wide open," Con pondered out loud. "Sure they live on the second floor, but it's not that much of a drop from the balcony to the ground."

Frank stood up a little straighter, processing what Con had said. He recalled Joe telling him how he had climbed up the balcony to get into the apartment the few times he'd forgotten his keys. Frank wasn't quite sure how just yet, but somehow he knew that would turn out to be a key piece of information.

"Con, do you think you could clear it so I can be with Joe when he wakes up?" Frank asked quietly, knowing Collig would veto that request in a heartbeat.

Con turned and looked at Frank in silence, the _'You've-gotta-be-kidding'_ expression on his face needing no interpretation.

"Come on, Con, please," Frank begged. "Even I admit Joe was high on something. When he wakes up he'll be disoriented, confused. Frantic with worry about Vanessa. He may not remember all the details, at first. Can't I at least be the one to try and explain what happened?"

"You know I can't do that, Frank. Chief would kill me without a second thought," Con refused.

"You have a younger brother, don't you?" Frank asked, trying a different approach.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Con asked warily, knowing Frank was leading up to something.

"If the situations were reversed…" Frank suggested, arching an eyebrow.

With a sigh of defeat, Con quickly remembered all the scrapes he'd gotten his younger brother out of when they were kids. All the times he'd come to his brother's rescue, gotten into fights defending him. _'No wonder Frank and I get along so well,'_ he thought wryly. _'Kindred spirits.'_

"_**IF**_ I can get you in there…and _**IF**_ the Chief finds out you were there…I will swear I had no idea how you got there," Con replied, tersely. "Understand?"

"Got it," Frank smiled. "Thanks, Con. You're the best."

"Yeah, remind me of that when the Chief makes me turn in my badge," Con replied as he stepped out of the apartment to make the arrangements Frank requested.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Again, many thanks to Hbwgonnabe for letting me reference her _Road to Heaven/Highway from Hell_ stories for Joe's 'history'.

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 4**

'_No! They won't get me! I won't let them get me.' Joe raised the knife over his head and plunged it down. Immediately he heard a blood curdling scream of pain. Joe lifted the knife, preparing to strike again, when he saw it._

_Blood. So much blood. Too much blood. Where did it come from? He tried to remember but everything was…jumbled. Then he heard it. The whimper. _

_Joe stared at the knife in his hand for a moment before his eyes frantically darted around the room, finally following the trail of blood on the floor…_

_"NO!!" The scream tore from his throat. "Nooooo!!!"_

Joe struggled to fight his way back to consciousness. Even in his groggy state, he sensed something was very wrong, with both himself and his surroundings. There was a constant dull throbbing in his head; his mouth and throat were so dry it almost hurt to swallow. Tentatively opening one eye, he hissed in pain at the assault of light and thought better of it.

Shifting slightly, Joe attempted to lift his arm, feeling a tiny hint of panic when he realized he was being held down by some type of restraints. Carefully opening his eyes once more, he cautiously looked around as it finally registered that he was in a hospital room. He continued his sweep of the room, letting his gaze come to rest on the police officer seated in a chair next to the door. The officer reached up, his eyes locked on Joe's, as he pressed a button on the small microphone clipped to the shoulder of his uniform and uttered two words.

"He's awake."

Dropping his hand back down to rest in his lap, he watched Joe impassively. Muffled voices from outside the door caught Joe's attention. As one of the voices rose in pitch and tone, Joe recognized it as Franks.

"Frank," Joe croaked, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Despite his confusion, Joe knew the fact that he had been physically restrained and had a police guard did not bode well for him. Suddenly he trusted no one but his own brother.

After another minute or two of commotion, the door opened and another police officer walked in followed quickly by Frank, who raced to his brother's side.

"Joe! How do you feel? Are you okay?" Frank asked, anxiously. Noting some faint scratches and bruising that had started to appear along Joe's jaw and throat, Frank's heart tightened in his chest. It was apparent Joe had fought with someone and either overpowered them or was subdued by them rather quickly.

"What happened?" Joe rasped, his apprehension lessening only slightly at the appearance of his older brother.

Glancing around the room, Frank quickly spotted a plastic pitcher and cup on a small rolling table. Filling the cup with cold water, he grabbed a straw and placed it in the cup. Reaching down for the remote control, he pressed a button, raising the head of the bed.

"Drink," he ordered Joe, holding the cup for his brother. When Joe drained the first cup, Frank poured another and waited until Joe pulled away, indicating he'd had enough.

"What's going on? Why am I here? Like this?" Joe asked, pulling on the restraints, trepidation creeping into his voice.

Frank hesitated, turning back over his shoulder to look at the two officers. "Can we have some privacy please?" he requested, knowing Joe shouldn't say anything without speaking with their lawyer first. With a grunt and an eye roll, the two officers left the room after informing Frank they'd be "right outside."

"What do you remember?" Frank asked, deftly answering with a question of his own.

"Nothing!" Joe's voice rose as panic started to settle in. "If I remembered anything I wouldn't need to ask you, would I?!"

"Easy, Joe," Frank said soothingly. "Take a deep breath and think. What's the last thing you remember?"

"This isn't good, is it?" Joe asked his voice shaking slightly. "The restraints. The police guard…what did I do?" he ended in a scared whisper.

"I don't think you did anything," Frank reassured him. "But I need you to verify that. Think, Joe. If you don't remember exactly what happened, what _do_ you remember?"

Sinking back into the pillows, Joe closed his eyes, wishing the pounding in his head would cease. Or at least quiet down enough to allow him to think clearly.

"Pizza," Joe finally replied. "We ordered pizza." His eyes suddenly flew open, wide with fear. "Vanessa? Where's Vanessa?!" he demanded.

Frank unconsciously took a step back, shocked that Joe remembered so little of what had happened. Frank felt himself pale slightly, realizing he'd have to tell Joe much more than he had originally anticipated.

"_Where is she?!"_ Joe cried out, now in a full-blown panic at the look on his brother's face.

"Up…upstairs," Frank stammered, trying to buy some time. He had at least expected Joe to remember that Vanessa had been hurt. Truth be told he had been hoping for a detailed description of whoever had attacked them, still certain Joe had been framed.

Watching as Joe sagged back into the bed with relief, Frank was overcome with guilt. Even though he hadn't lied, he hadn't been totally honest with his brother either. Vanessa _was_ upstairs…in the Intensive Care Unit. Upon arriving at the hospital, she had been rushed to surgery where doctors repaired the damage to her lung caused by the knife. They had also discovered a skull fracture and swelling of the brain. The prognosis they'd given Andrea Bender had been guarded. If she didn't regain consciousness soon, Vanessa would more than likely slip into a coma.

"Can I see her?" Joe asked wearily, assuming Vanessa was fine and simply waiting for word on his condition. "Maybe she can help me remember what happened."

When Frank didn't respond, Joe repeated his request. "Frank? Can you go get Van? I need to talk to her."

"I…I can't do that," Frank mumbled. _'God, how am I going to tell him?'_

"Sure you can. You go out the door, get on the elevator, go upstairs and bring her back down. Even you can handle that," Joe joked half-heartedly, trying to alleviate some of the tension that had suddenly sprouted.

"I…Joe…" Frank stumbled over the words, praying for divine intervention to get him through this.

"What's wrong?" Joe asked, the panic returning full force. "Vanessa's okay, isn't she?"

Frank's silence told him Vanessa was far from okay.

"Frank…is she okay or not?" Joe demanded, once again pulling at the restraints holding him down. "ANSWER ME!!"

"No, she's not okay. She was…someone attacked her. With a knife," Frank finally replied.

"Wha…what?! Who? Where? When?! Where was I?" Joe cried out, the questions coming fast and furious.

"We don't know who," Frank responded, adamantly refusing to believe Joe had anything to do with it other than being a scapegoat. "It happened last night. In your apartment."

"No," Joe whispered in complete denial. "You're wrong. I was there. I would have stopped anyone who tried to hurt her. I would remember…" Joe's voice trailed off, his eyes shining brightly. "Frank, I don't…I can't remember. Why can't I remember?"

"Joe, listen to me. I'll tell you everything I know. But you have to stay calm. If you don't they'll come in and give you another sedative," Frank began.

"_Another _sedative?!" Joe yelled, completely ignoring his brother's instructions to remain calm, pulling harder still on the leather straps, determined to free himself. "What the hell is going on?!"

Immediately the door burst open and the two police officers on guard duty rushed into the room, hands hovering over their guns. "Do you need help?" The first officer asked Frank. "I can get the doctor…"

"No!" Frank replied emphatically, placing a firm hand on Joe's arm and squeezing hard. "He's fine. We're fine."

The two men looked at him doubtfully. When Joe remained silent and settled back against the pillows, they reluctantly left the room again.

"Start talking," Joe demanded, needing to know what happened, yet dreading what he might hear.

"Okay," Frank took a deep breath, "Just promise me you'll stay calm."

Joe glared at him in silent response.

"Last night Con and Chief Collig responded to a domestic violence call…at your address."

Joe's mouth gaped open in shock. "What? I…I never…"

"I know. Just listen. Your landlord made the call. Right after he called 911, he called Dad. We got there a few minutes after they did. Your door was locked; deadbolted. You didn't respond when Con knocked so Mr. Doyle had to let them in. Dad and I were right behind them."

"But…I _was_ there! We never left the apartment. At least… I don't think we did," Joe faltered, his eyes growing more fearful as he realized he had no memory of the prior evening.

"You're right, Joe. You were there," Frank confirmed, although his voice lacked that comforting tone Joe was so used to hearing. Skipping over the initial confusion when Con tried to hold him back, Frank continued. "When we walked in, everything looked normal. Until we got to the kitchen. Vanessa was…" Frank stopped and stared out into space for a moment, then blinked rapidly to dislodge the image of Vanessa sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood.

"Vanessa was…what?" Joe whispered, his throat dry and his heart racing.

"She was lying on the kitchen floor, unconscious, bleeding from multiple stab wounds to the back," Frank replied, his voice only slightly louder than Joe's had been.

Joe tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back a small whimper, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. "Where was I?" he asked in the same whisper.

"You…you were there. In the kitchen. Crouched on the floor." Frank closed his eyes and swallowed hard, unable to look his brother in the eye. "Holding a bloody knife."

Frank waited in vain for some kind of response from Joe. When the silence felt as though it were choking him, Frank finally opened his eyes. Joe was staring at him, his intense blue eyes even more piercing against Joe's now deathly pale skin.

"Did…I…" Joe choked on the question, his eyes huge, absolutely terrified Frank would answer in the affirmative.

"No!" Frank replied forcefully. "No, you did _not_ stab Vanessa!"

"But…how do you know? You weren't there and I can't remember." Joe's eyes grew wider still and he began to tremble as something flickered in his subconscious. A knife clutched in his hands. Blood…everywhere. Was it a memory? A dream? A flashback? "Why can't I remember?!" he cried out on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Easy, Joe," Frank said in a low, soothing voice rubbing Joe's shoulder gently. "Take a deep breath. That's it," he continued encouragingly as Joe tried to comply. "You probably can't remember because of the drugs."

"Drugs?" Joe repeated, confused. "You mean the sedative?"

"No," Frank replied, taking a deep breath himself. "After we got there, Con tried to help Vanessa. As soon as he reached for her you got…violent."

Joe stared at his brother, speechless, feeling like he was in some surreal dream.

"You went after Con with the knife. Dad and I had to restrain you. It took both of us to get the knife away from you and hold you down so Collig could…handcuff you," Frank said, almost apologetically, leaving out the part about Collig and his officers being prepared to shoot Joe in order to protect Con.

"Handcuffs?" Joe repeated in disbelief. "I…I don't remember any of it."

"When the EMT's got there, they gave you a sedative. After they transported you, one of Colligs men found your gym bag. Joe, it had drugs in it."

"What?! Frank, I don't…I never…NEVER did drugs!" Joe exclaimed, drawing in a sharp breath, as his thoughts suddenly tumbled back in time. "That one time. It wasn't my fault. You know that, right? I didn't want to! They forced me!" Joe cried out, unconsciously pulling on the restraints once more.

"I know! I know!" Frank put his hands on Joe's shoulders, hoping to calm him. "I believe you, Joe. I believe you." He waited until Joe quieted down somewhat before continuing. "But, I think the same thing happened again. Joe, you were high on… something… last night," he finished softly. "I know you didn't take it voluntarily. That's why I need you to think… remember as much as you can. I don't think you and Vanessa were alone in the apartment last night. I think someone set you up."

"Vanessa!" Joe exhaled her name in a rush. "Frank, she's going to be okay, right?" Joe searched his brother's face for confirmation, dying a little when he saw only doubt. "Right?" he repeated in a pleading voice. "Please tell me she'll be okay…"

Frank wanted more than anything in the world to tell Joe exactly what he wanted to hear, but he had never lied to his brother and he wasn't about to start now. "When she fell, she hit her head." Frank almost stopped at the soft cry from Joe. "She has a skull fracture and swelling of the brain. They said…" At the look of devastation on Joe's face, Frank found he couldn't be entirely truthful. "They said they hope she'll regain consciousness soon."

Joe was silent for what seemed an eternity, trying to make sense of everything Frank had told him. Through the hazy mist in his brain, he came to a horrifying realization.

"Frank… you said I was high on something." Joe looked at his brother, trying to keep his voice steady. Frank nodded silently. "I…I can't remember what happened."

Out of nowhere, disjointed images flashed through Joe's mind. Vanessa lying on the floor…blood…a knife…in his hands. Now shaking at the thought of what those images could mean, Joe looked at his brother.

"What if…what if…" A lone tear slid down Joe's cheek as his voice broke. "What if I really did stab her?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 5**

The fear in Joe's eyes that he really might have hurt Vanessa was so great Frank almost had to look away. He could see that even the possibility that Joe could have caused pain to the woman he loved was almost killing his brother.

"You didn't do it, Joe. I don't have proof, _yet_, but I know in my heart you couldn't possibly hurt Vanessa – under the influence of drugs or not," Frank said emphatically. And he _did_ believe it. He knew people could become violent and act totally out of character while on drugs, but deep inside he was absolutely certain Joe would never raise a hand to Vanessa under any circumstances.

Seeing Frank's fervent belief in him, Joe allowed himself to hope that maybe Frank was right. Sagging back against the pillows, Joe closed his eyes and frowned in deep concentration trying to remember what had happened the previous evening, knowing even bits and pieces of memory could be all they needed.

"Damn," Joe finally swore under his breath. Sighing heavily he opened his eyes and looked at his older brother. "If I could only remember…something…_anything_!"

Frank patted his shoulder comfortingly. "You just woke up. Give it time. I'm sure you'll start remembering soon."

Just then the door opened and Fenton Hardy walked in, hurrying to Joe's bedside.

"How do you feel, Joe?" he asked calmly, the tone of his voice clashing with the worry written all over his face.

"Confused," Joe admitted. "Dad, I can't remember anything."

"Hopefully, that's only temporary," Fenton reassured him. "Andrew should be here any minute," he continued, referring to Andrew Worth, the Hardys lawyer. "I've arranged with the D.A. and Collig for you to be booked and arraigned as soon as you're released. Andrew said there shouldn't be any problem getting you out on bail."

Joe nodded, thankful he wouldn't have to actually spend more than a few hours in a jail cell. As Joe was about to reply, the door opened once more and Andrew Worth, a man about Joe's height but slimmer, with light brown hair and intense blue eyes, stepped in accompanied by Ezra Collig and Con Riley.

"The results of Joe's blood test should be back within the next thirty minutes. I thought you'd want to be there when we got the results," Ezra said, looking directly at Fenton.

"Thank you. We'll be there," Fenton replied in a clipped voice.

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds in which no one moved until Andrew broke the silence, addressing Collig and Riley.

"Gentleman, if you don't mind I'd like to speak with my client in private."

Collig nodded in understanding and led Riley out the door.

Taking a small tape recorder out of his briefcase along with a pad and pen, Andrew turned back to Joe. "Tell me everything you can remember," he said simply.

Joe stared at the ceiling for a moment collecting his thoughts, then began to speak.

"I got home before Vanessa last night. I was watching TV when she called to tell me she was on her way home. We decided to order pizza from Prito's. She said she'd pick it up, but she sounded really tired. I told her just to come on home, they could deliver it," Joe said, finding it hard to believe that had been less than fifteen hours earlier.

"Did she get home before the pizza was delivered?" Andrew asked.

"Yes. She came home and about ten minutes later the delivery guy buzzed to be let in. She went into the bedroom to change clothes and I let him in. He came up to the apartment, delivered the pizza, I paid him and he left."

"What happened next?"

"I took the pizza into the kitchen, put two slices on a plate and poured two glasses of soda. One for me and one for Van."

"She still hadn't come out of the bedroom yet?" Andrew clarified.

"No, not yet. I yelled down the hall to tell her the pizza was here and she said she'd be right out. I took my pizza and soda and went back out to the living room. I took a few bites…and …" Joe's voice trailed off as he stared at the wall once again.

"Joe? What is it?" Frank asked, at the look of intense concentration on his brother's face.

"I'm not sure. That was all I could remember before but…gimme a second," Joe said quietly, as something tried to force itself up from the recesses of his memory. "Someone knocked on the door!" he exclaimed.

"Who was it?" Frank demanded excitedly.

"I… don't know!" Joe replied in frustration. "I thought it was the delivery guy again because no one rang the buzzer to be let into the building. So it had to be someone who was already inside."

"Or someone who didn't want to broadcast their presence," Fenton added. "Someone who waited outside until another person was leaving and they could simply walk into the building unannounced."

"Isn't there a video camera on the entrance to your building?" Frank asked.

"Yeah. It's pointed right at the front door. It's one of the things that sold me on that complex – the security," Joe affirmed.

"Collig probably already confiscated the tapes," Fenton guessed.

"Think he'll let us look at them?" Frank queried his father.

"Probably. But if he turns down our request, he'd have to let Andrew have access to them as Joe's attorney. So either way we'll get a look at them."

"Joe, is there anything else you can remember?" Andrew looked at Joe.

"No," Joe shook his head in frustration.

"That's all right," Andrew patted his leg. "I'm sure it'll start coming back to you eventually." He was interrupted by a knock on the door as one of the police officers who had been assigned to guard Joe stuck his head in the door.

"Chief wanted me to let you know they're ready to go over the test results with the doctor."

"Thank you. We'll be right out," Andrew replied snapping his briefcase shut.

"Hey, what about me? Why can't they do it in here?" Joe protested. "They're _MY_ test results. Don't I even get to know what they are?"

Andrew smiled apologetically. "I'll come back and tell you as soon as we're done out there. I'll be going with you to the police station and then the arraignment, while your Dad and Frank arrange for your bail. I'll fill you in then, okay?"

"Guess I don't have much choice," Joe snorted in disgust.

"Unfortunately not," Andrew said sympathetically. "And I know I don't have to tell you this but…don't say anything to anyone no matter how much they badger you. I'll arrange a specific time for you to be questioned by the police in my presence. Until then, don't talk to anyone but me, your father or Frank."

Joe nodded his understanding then watched forlornly as they all left the room, leaving him alone with the disturbing flashbacks that were slowly eating a hole in his heart.

oooOOOooo

Frank, Fenton, Andrew, Ezra and Con were squeezed into the small office of the emergency room physician who had been treating Joe since his arrival, listening to the results of the various tests that had been run.

"Blood screens revealed a level of LSD in his system consistent with first time or one time use, along with the sedative administered by the EMT's. Physical exam showed the beginnings of some bruising on his jaw and throat along with a few minor scratches on his face. We also found two puncture wounds indicating an injection of some kind, on his right arm. One can be traced back to the EMT's, the other would appear to be where he injected the drugs."

"You said both marks were on his right arm?" Frank interrupted, his eyes lighting up.

The doctor flipped through the papers in his hand to be sure. "Yes," he confirmed. "The right arm."

"That proves it!" Frank exclaimed excitedly.

"The only thing it proves is what we've suspected from the beginning," Collig said sadly. "Joe was abusing drugs last night."

"No!" Frank said vehemently. "It proves just the opposite."

"How so?" Fenton questioned, apparently so worried about his youngest son he hadn't picked up on whatever it was that had Frank so convinced.

"Joe is right handed. If he was shooting up, the needle mark would be on his _left_ arm, not his right."

Fenton nodded, silently smiling his agreement.

"Frank," Con began softly, "Addicts leave tracks everywhere. Right arm. Left arm. Legs. Even between their toes."

"Tracks, Con!" Frank shouted angrily. "Plural! They only found one mark on Joe – _one_! And the doctor just said there were only enough drugs in his system from a _single_ episode of use."

"Maybe he just now started experimenting," Con theorized.

"Or he may be having problems you don't know about. When things start to go bad, people turn to drugs," Collig stated gently.

"What things?" Frank asked. "I know my brother better than anyone. He's happier than he's ever been in his life."

"Are he and Vanessa are having problems? Problems that you don't know about?"

Frank glanced at his father and shook his head, a smile twitching at his lips. "Joe and Vanessa are so hopelessly in love with each other it borders on disgusting sometimes. If they were having problems, Joe would never be able to hide it. He's lost without her. And even if they were having trouble, he'd _never_ turn to drugs to try and deal with it."

"What about Iola Morton? He'll always feel guilty about her death."

"True," Frank conceded. "But if that were the catalyst, Joe would've started using drugs when he was seventeen. Granted, he still feels guilty but he's come to terms with her death. And six years is kind of a long time for a delayed reaction, don't you think?" Frank replied looking from Ezra Collig to Con Riley and back again.

Con exchanged a dubious glance with his boss. He had to admit it made a certain amount of sense.

Seeing the still somewhat uncertain look on Collig's face, Frank turned to the doctor, his eyes begging for help.

"He does have a point. Every first time drug user we get in the ER uses their dominant hand to inject the drug into the non-dominant arm," the doctor confirmed Frank's theory. "It wouldn't make sense for an inexperienced user to do it the other way around. Again, the amount of LSD in Joe's system was from a _single_ episode of use. If he'd been abusing drugs for a while now, the blood test would prove that." He flipped the pages of Joe's chart back and forth in another quick review. "That's clearly not the case here. He is most definitely _not_ a habitual drug user."

"You've known Joe practically his whole life, Chief. Do you honestly believe he'd want to abuse drugs?" Frank pressed. Something in Collig's eyes flickered and Frank could see he was considering Frank's theory and what the doctor had said.

Collig thought about everything Frank had said, silently admitting the logic in it. He also saw that Frank might have overlooked one very important fact. Even if someone had gained access to the apartment, somehow managed to overpower Joe and forcibly inject him with LSD, it didn't automatically clear Joe of the assault. It was still quite possible that Joe _had_ been the one to attack Vanessa while in the grips of the hallucinogenic drug, even if he hadn't taken it of his own accord.

"Frank," Collig began. "Even if Joe were set up, even if someone broke into their apartment, subdued Joe and shot him up with drugs, that doesn't automatically mean he wasn't the one who attacked Vanessa. You do realize that, don't you?"

"Of course I realize that," Frank said evenly, knowing he had to acknowledge that possibility, no matter how small he thought it was.

"Just as long as you're prepared for that possibility."

"So, you'll consider that there could have been someone else in the apartment last night?" Frank asked hopefully.

"I'll go with the facts. Those facts show that Joe is _not_ a habitual user. They also show that since the needle marks are on Joe's right arm and he is right handed, it raises serious doubts about whether or not he injected himself," Collig replied.

Frank sighed in relief, quickly realizing it was somewhat premature.

"However, based on other evidence, I cannot completely exonerate him," Collig continued, looking from Frank to Fenton, hating what he had to say. "I'm sorry but until we find proof to the contrary, Joe is still our number one suspect."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Very special thanks to Sparks and Evergreen for allowing me to refer to "the marriage proposal" in their wonderful story _Death on The Fourth of July._

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 6**

Frank stood next to his father and Andrew Worth in the hall after hearing the results of the various tests that had been run on Joe. While still concerned about the drugs in his system, Frank was relieved that his brother was, for the most part, all right. Ezra Collig and Con Riley were now updating them as to what they had gleaned from speaking with Vanessa's treating physician earlier in the morning.

"She still has some swelling on the brain and hasn't shown any signs of regaining consciousness yet, but the skull fracture isn't severe so they are hopeful she won't slip into a coma," Collig related what the doctor had told him. "He also said she has quite a few 'defensive injuries'. Apparently, she put up a good fight against whoever attacked her. She has bruises on her hands and knuckles and a few broken fingernails. I requested scrapings be taken from under her nails for DNA analysis."

Fenton felt a lead weight in his stomach at the implication. If her defensive injuries matched up with the bruises and scratches on Joe and the DNA found under Vanessa's nails also matched his, that would be one more nail Collig could stick in his coffin.

"You realize even if the DNA turns out to be a match with Joe, that doesn't prove anything," Fenton said tightly. "They live together, for God's sake. Of course his DNA will be under her nails, on her clothes and skin. Just as hers would be on Joe."

"Of course I do," Collig said patiently. "I requested the DNA test not necessarily to prove Joe is guilty, but more so to see if there is unknown DNA under Vanessa's nails. If so, that would support Frank's theory that there _was_ someone else in the apartment and that person could very well be the one who attacked Vanessa.

"However, Joe obviously fought with someone. If his injuries match Vanessa's unfortunately _that_ would support the theory that he _did_ attack her," Collig sighed heavily. "I'm just trying to cover all my bases here."

"In that case, I'd like to request that you take samples from under Joe's nails, too," Andrew requested. "If the DNA found under Vanessa's nails can't be linked to Joe, but the same DNA is found under Joe's nails, that would be a very strong indication they were both attacked by the same unknown assailant."

"It's already been done," the Chief replied with a slight smile. "I really _don't_ want Joe to be the one who did this."

oooOOOooo

Joe sat in the chair by the bed staring at the floor, avoiding looking at the guard who was once again seated in the chair by the door. He'd finally been released from the restraints and allowed to get dressed in anticipation of his pending release from the hospital. Once he'd changed into the clothes Frank had brought him, he had been handcuffed and told to wait for his attorney.

Joe hoped Frank and his father had already left and wouldn't have to see him being escorted out of the hospital handcuffed and under armed guard. He closed his eyes and felt his cheeks flush with the heat of shame. Joe couldn't imagine anything more humiliating for his father than to see one of his sons being led away in handcuffs, like the common criminals he hunted down. While he had always been a little wild and somewhat rebellious, Joe long ago swore he would never do anything to embarrass his father and he'd been able to keep that vow – until today.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered softly.

"You say something?" the guard asked.

"No," Joe mumbled without looking up, reclaiming his wall of silence and wearing it like a shield.

Time seemed to move at a snail's pace and Joe felt as if he had aged several years by the time Andrew finally walked into the room, politely asking the guard for privacy.

"How's Vanessa?" Joe asked the second they were alone, desperate for any word on her condition. "Any change?"

"No, she's still the same," Andrew replied, wishing he had better news.

Joe swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded silently. He knew any request to see her before leaving the hospital would be in vain, but promised himself he'd return as soon as his bail hearing was concluded.

"I've asked Con to transport you to police headquarters. I know he won't try and bait you into talking about last night."

"Wouldn't matter if he did," Joe said bitterly. "I can't remember anything anyway."

"Just the same, if he tries to engage you in conversation having to do with anything other than the weather or baseball scores…"

"I know – keep my mouth shut."

"I'll be right behind you," Andrew said, squeezing his shoulder. "Ready?"

Lapsing back into silence, Joe nodded and stood up, following Andrew to the door. Each of Joe's arms were gently but firmly taken by an officer the second they stepped into the hall and he was led out of the emergency room and placed in the back of a waiting squad car. Staring straight ahead, Joe didn't acknowledge Con Riley's subdued greeting and remained quiet during the entire ride to police headquarters.

Upon arriving, Joe was fingerprinted, searched and processed. Con then led him to an interrogation room where Frank, Andrew and Chief Collig were waiting. After Frank explained to Joe that Fenton was arranging his bail and couldn't be present, Chief Collig questioned Joe. When the questioning was finished, Collig left the room, allowing Frank and Andrew to answer any questions Joe had in private. Once that was done, Joe was taken to a holding cell.

Reviewing the interrogation in his mind, Joe found he was almost glad he couldn't remember anything more than he had earlier that morning, since his father wasn't able to be there. Frank had assured him they were be doing everything in their power to prove his innocence, and Joe didn't want to have to try and recall new pieces of information for his father, as his memory didn't seem to be cooperating very well.

Sitting on the small cot with his back to the wall, Joe rubbed his wrists, thankful to finally be free of restraints. He spent the next several hours trying in vain to remember anything more from the previous evening, unable to get beyond the knock on the door. Periodically, the disorganized and horrifying flashbacks he had experienced in the hospital would make their presence known, each new revelation a little more grisly than the previous one had been. Unable to discern whether the terrifying images were actual memories or hallucinations brought on by the LSD, Joe wasn't at all sure whether or not to mention them to Andrew or his father…or even Frank for that matter.

Trying to block out the gruesome visions of Vanessa lying on the kitchen floor, Joe forced himself to think back a few months earlier to Frank and Callie's wedding. He'd been the best man and Vanessa had been Callie's maid of honor. Just as it had on that happy occasion, Joe's breath caught in his throat and he automatically smiled, recalling his first glimpse of Vanessa as she preceded Callie down the aisle. She had taken his breath away, and any lingering doubts he might have had about asking her to marry him had vanished.

Opening his eyes, Joe stared at the dull, gray cinderblock wall, wondering if he'd even get the chance to pop the question. He hadn't told anyone of his plans to ask Vanessa to become his wife, not even Frank. He had finally made the last payment on her engagement ring, which was tucked securely away in his safe deposit box at the bank. Ironically, Joe realized that was the best place for it, especially now. He'd considered hiding it somewhere in the apartment, but feared Vanessa might stumble upon it accidentally. Had he done that it would probably be in the hands of the police at this very moment, having been confiscated as some kind of evidence. At the very least his secret would have been exposed, as he was certain the ring would have been found during what he was sure had been a very thorough and methodical search of their apartment.

Joe felt a heavy sense of foreboding descend on him as he thought of the hotel reservations he had already made for the weekend of Vanessa's birthday in November. For months now, he had been discreetly trying to pump his father for details about the night his parents had gotten engaged. A small smile crept to his lips as he remembered how enthralled Vanessa had been when Laura related the story of the night Fenton had asked for her hand in marriage. Using every tidbit of information he could pry out of his father, Joe intended to recreate that magical night for Vanessa and make it the best birthday she would ever have. The smile quickly disappeared as he wondered if all his efforts and months of planning would now be in vain. Would Vanessa even live long enough to know he wanted to marry her?

"Joe?" Con Riley's voice echoed through the cell, snapping Joe out of his trance. "Time to go."

Con opened the cell door as Joe got up from the cot and approached him. Dangling the now familiar handcuffs from one finger, Con shrugged apologetically.

Joe glared angrily at the handcuffs before turning around with a resigned sigh and putting his hands behind his back. Con gently snapped the handcuffs into place and led Joe upstairs and out the back door of the station into a squad car.

The ride to the courthouse only a few blocks away, took less than five minutes. Joe was led through the entrance used exclusively for "prisoners" and found Andrew waiting for him just inside the door. As they walked down the hall together, Andrew gave Joe a brief rundown on what to expect assuring him the whole ordeal would be over in a matter of moments.

Arriving at the courtroom, they had a short wait before Joe's name was called. After Con removed the handcuffs, Joe entered the courtroom and saw his parents, Frank and Callie seated a few rows back. Meeting Fenton's eyes, Joe saw nothing but concern for him reflected there. Unable to hold his father's gaze, Joe quickly looked away, the feeling of shame overtaking him once again.

Just as Andrew promised the proceedings were concluded rather quickly. Andrew had entered pleas of not guilty to all the charges lodged against Joe. The D.A. had recommended a predetermined amount for bail, which Fenton posted immediately. Joe sank a little lower in the chair, wondering how humiliating it had to be for a world renowned and highly respected private investigator to have to post bail for his own son. As Joe began to wallow in self-pity, the judge read off the conditions of his bail.

"You will turn in your passport and agree not to leave Bayport without the express written permission of this court. Finally, you will abide by the restraining order that has been issued against you."

'_Restraining order?!'_ Joe's head snapped up at those words as he was suddenly confronted with a nightmare he hadn't even considered.

"You are to have no contact whatsoever with the victim, Vanessa Bender. If at any time you are found to be in violation of this restraining order, your bail will be revoked immediately and you will be remanded to the state penitentiary to await trial."

As the bang of the gavel rang in his ears, Joe could only stare open-mouthed, in shocked disbelief.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Okay, I had no idea the restraining order would draw such vehement – and opposite – reactions! LOL! But as Cheryl pointed out, the physical evidence points to Joe right now so the judge is erring on the side of caution in making sure he doesn't have access to Vanessa. And again as Cheryl mentioned, while Joe would have realized that if he were thinking clearly, at this time he wasn't so that's why he was just as surprised at the restraining order as some of you were. ;-)

Thank you very much for ALL the reviews! I appreciate each and every one of them and that you took the time to review at all.

Under The Influence

Chapter 7

Andrew stood and snapped his briefcase shut, waiting for Joe to move. Looking down he saw the look of shock and utter disbelief on the younger Hardy's face.

"Joe? It's over. You can go home now," Andrew prodded him.

Slowly, Joe looked up at his attorney, incredulous. "Did you know about the restraining order?" Joe demanded.

"Not specifically, but it would be standard procedure," Andrew replied, noticing the look of annoyance being directed their way by both the judge and bailiff. Reaching down he took Joe's arm, trying to nudge him to get up.

"No, Andrew!" Joe pulled his arm away. "I won't agree to that as a condition of bail! I _have_ to see Vanessa!" Joe hissed angrily.

"You don't have a choice, Joe!" Andrew replied in a harsh whisper. "You either accept the conditions of bail – _all_ of them – or you go to prison…_now_!"

"Mr. Worth, is there a problem?" The judge's voice clearly held a note of impatience.

"Yes!" "No!" Joe and Andrew replied simultaneously.

"No, Your Honor, there is no problem," Andrew said emphatically, quickly overriding Joe's affirmative reply as he physically pushed Joe away from the table towards the exit at the back of the courtroom.

Watching from his seat, Frank knew immediately there would be trouble from Joe when the judge mentioned the restraining order. He mentally kicked himself, knowing that if he had taken the time to think things through, he would have known Joe would be barred from seeing Vanessa and he would have been able to prepare his brother for it.

Seeing the obvious argument taking place between Joe and Andrew, but unable to hear what was being said, Frank began to rise from his seat. Patience was not Joe's strong suit and it didn't take a lot to set him off under the best of circumstances. Knowing this particular judge ran a no-nonsense courtroom, Frank was afraid if they didn't get Joe out of there as soon as possible, he'd say or do something to cause the judge to revoke his bail immediately.

Frank had made his way to the end of aisle and took a few steps towards the front of the room when he saw Andrew physically push Joe towards the exit. Meeting them at the small gate, Frank pushed it open, grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him out into the corridor where Callie, Laura and Fenton were already waiting for them.

Seeing the fire in Joe's eyes, Frank was somewhat relieved when Laura grabbed Joe and hugged him tightly, knowing it would calm him down at least temporarily. Automatically, Joe returned the hug, assuring his mother he was none the worse for wear.

Stepping back, Laura looked at her youngest son critically. "You look tired. You need to go home and rest," she ordered, obviously expecting no argument.

"You can come home with us, Joe," Fenton said, realizing Laura didn't grasp that Joe wouldn't be allowed to return to his apartment as it was still considered a crime scene. When Joe stared at the floor in silence, Fenton wondered if Joe was in such a state of shock that he actually thought he would be allowed to return home. _'He knows better than that.'_

"Joe, you know you can't…" Fenton began gently.

"Yeah, I know," Joe mumbled avoiding all eye contact with his father.

"Shouldn't he at least be able to go and get some clothes?" Frank asked.

"Probably," Fenton said distractedly, concerned at Joe's sudden avoidance of him – and only him. "See if you can get in touch with Con or Collig and ask them," he requested of Frank as he took Joe by the arm and led him to a quiet corner.

"Joe? What's wrong?" he asked, when they were out of earshot of the others.

Shifting his weight, Joe simply shook his head and looked at the floor, the walls, out the window – anywhere to avoid having to look at his father.

"Joe. Look at me," Fenton said in a firm yet gentle voice.

Slowly Joe looked up and met his father's gaze, holding it only for a second or two before abruptly looking away. Completely baffled by his son's reaction, Fenton tried a different tack.

"Joe, have I done something to upset you? Make you angry?"

"What?!" Joe exclaimed, now looking directly at his father, horrified. "God, no, Dad!"

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I…I can't…face you right now," Joe choked out.

"Why? I don't understand," Fenton said, truly bewildered.

Joe hung his head shamefully. "I embarrassed you, Dad. Humiliated you. I…I'm so sorry."

Fenton found himself momentarily speechless, his mind spinning at Joe's words. "Whatever gave you that idea?" he finally asked.

"Oh, come on, Dad. You're one of the best private investigators in the world. Everyone in law enforcement looks up to you – respects you." Joe stopped knowing he'd stumble over his words if he didn't. "To have to see your own son arrested, put under an armed guard…having to go out and get _bail_ for me! I'm no better than any other criminal you've put away. I'm sorry I let you down. You have every right to be ashamed of me," Joe finished quietly, resuming his inspection of the tile floor.

Anger, rage, sympathy, empathy, sadness…Fenton had never experienced such a gamut of emotions so quickly before in his life. Taking a deep breath, he placed a finger under Joe's chin and lifted his son's head, forcing Joe to look at him.

"Joe, I don't believe for one second that you voluntarily took drugs and I _know_ there is no way you could ever hurt Vanessa – under _any_ circumstances. I _do_ believe you were framed and the police fell for it. And you are most certainly NOT a criminal. Taking all of that into consideration, not only am I not ashamed of you, I couldn't be more proud of the way you've handled yourself. I love you, Joe. I find it hard to believe you could ever do anything to humiliate or embarrass me."

"But…" Joe began, shocked but relieved at his father's reassurance.

"Joe, I don't know if it's because of me or in spite of me," Fenton smiled, "but you've grown into a fine young man any father would be proud of."

Joe returned the smile gratefully, finding himself uncharacteristically lost for words.

"Dad?" Frank's voice interrupted. "Con said Joe can go to the apartment now and pack some clothes. He's going to meet us there. Collig said it had to be done under police escort," Frank finished, the tone of his voice indicating exactly what he thought of that policy. "Do you want me to take you?" Frank asked his brother, not quite sure if Joe and Fenton needed more time to discuss whatever had been bothering Joe.

"Would you mind?" Joe asked almost apologetically.

"No problem, bro. Let's go."

oooOOOooo

Frank was thankful the ride to the apartment was short as Joe was obviously brooding about the restraining order and not in the mood to talk. Frank accompanied him into the apartment, but remained in the living room with Con, assuming Joe would want some privacy.

Stepping into the bedroom, Joe was stopped by the lingering scent of Vanessa as memories of happier days assaulted him. Sitting down heavily on the bed, Joe picked up the framed picture of himself and Vanessa that she kept on the nightstand, struck by how utterly happy and in love they looked. Was it even remotely possible that he really had been the one who attacked her? Gazing at the picture, Joe was surprised to see a lone tear splash across the glass.

"I'm sorry, Baby," he whispered, wiping it away. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

Holding tightly to the picture, Joe stood up and moved to the closet. He took out a duffel bag identical to one Frank had, already packed with several changes of clothes, a shaving kit and other personal items which they kept ready at all times should they need to leave town on short notice for a case. Placing the duffel on his bed, Joe unzipped it and carefully laid the picture inside.

Moving almost without thinking, Joe walked to Vanessa's bureau. Picking up the various perfume bottles there, he sniffed each one until he found his favorite. Opening a few of the drawers, he rummaged around until he found his old Bayport High t-shirt that Vanessa insisted on wearing to bed every night. Closing his eyes, he held the shirt close to his face, inhaling deeply, before carefully rolling the bottle of perfume in the shirt. Returning to the bed, Joe put the shirt inside the duffel and hefted the bag onto his shoulder. His gaze swept the bedroom one final time as he wondered if he would ever return. Realizing his emotions were about to overwhelm him, Joe quickly left the room, making a beeline for the front door, deciding he didn't _want_ to return unless Vanessa was by his side.

oooOOOooo

Once again, Frank found himself driving in painful silence. Joe hadn't said one word since leaving the apartment, except to thank the mailman they had encountered in the lobby. He had been filling the mailboxes when he saw Joe and simply handed him the day's mail. Joe had forced a smile and a thank you, throwing the mail inside his bag.

"It won't be long, Joe," Frank finally spoke, having grown weary of the strained silence. "We'll find the evidence we need to prove you didn't attack Vanessa. The restraining order will be lifted and you'll be seeing her before you know it."

"Even sooner," Joe replied cryptically, sending a chill of dread down Frank's spine.

"What do you mean 'even sooner'?" Frank asked warily.

"I want to see her – today." Joe turned to his older brother, his eyes begging for assistance. "Will you help me?"

"Were you listening to the judge, Joe? Do you know what will happen if you get caught violating that restraining order?" Frank reminded him.

"If you help me, I won't get caught," Joe said evenly.

"I can't believe you're asking me this!" Frank cried out. "One little mistake and you'll end up in prison!"

"I don't care, Frank! I need to see her – _today_!" Joe fired back, his anger rising.

"Well, I do care! Do you know what will happen to you in prison? Just take a minute and think about it!" Frank looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye, his heart sinking when he saw the familiar look of determination on Joe's face. _'He really doesn't care!'_

"Fine," Joe said stonily, staring straight ahead. "I don't need your help. I can do it myself."

"Joe, you can't…" Frank began a last ditch effort to talk Joe out of it.

"I can and I will. And no one is going to stop me," Joe said forcefully, turning to look at his brother. "Not even you."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Again, thank you to EVERYONE for all the reviews! You make my day:-)

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 8**

Frank drove in silence, fuming at Joe's blatant disregard for his own safety, shuddering at the thought of what Joe could be – _would_ be – subjected to at the hands of inmates he had helped put away.

'_Damn you, Joe!'_ Frank cursed silently as he felt his resolve starting to weaken. All their lives Joe had been able to talk Frank into anything and he knew deep inside this would be no exception.

"Frank, please. It would be different if I knew she was going to be okay. And if you tell me right now that the doctor said she _will_ wake up and she _will_ be fine, I'll believe you and never mention this again," Joe said quietly.

Frank stared straight ahead, reliving the conversation he'd had with Andrea Bender that morning. She told him the doctor's biggest concern was that Vanessa might never regain consciousness. While they were hopeful, it was still too early to tell whether Vanessa would simply wake up or slip into a coma.

Sensing Frank was close to breaking, Joe didn't feel the least bit guilty about giving him the final push he needed to crack. "I'm sorry Frank, but I can't abide by this restraining order, knowing there's a chance I may never see her alive again. I need to see her. I need to tell her…" Joe stopped and took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'll do it by myself if I have to but I'd feel better if I knew you were watching my back."

Frank glanced at his younger brother, the last bit of determination flying out the window when faced with Joe's pleading blue eyes. _'Damn you!'_

"Fine!" he exhaled in exasperation, the breath of air so forceful he blew a lock of hair off his forehead.

"Thanks, bro," Joe finally cracked a tiny smile.

"Yeah, well don't thank me until we've gotten you in and out without getting caught," Frank snapped, angry that after all these years he still hadn't learned how to keep Joe safe from his worst enemy – himself. "I don't want to have to explain to Dad how you ended up in prison, and how I helped put you there!"

Still ticked off at both Joe and himself, Frank came to an intersection, yanking the wheel hard to the left, throwing Joe against the door as he completed the turn.

"Uh, could you at least wait until _after_ I've seen Vanessa to kill me?" Joe said, while hanging on to the door handle tightly.

Frank simply grunted in reply, taking another sharp turn.

Glancing out the window, Joe saw they were heading away from their parents house. "Where exactly are we going?" Joe asked.

"My house," Frank replied curtly, trying to temper the antagonism in his voice. _'I __**hate**__ it when he does this! Why does he always expect me to be happy to help him get into trouble? And why can't I __**EVER**__ say no!'_

"Okay," Joe said simply, knowing Frank was angry with him even if he did agree to help.

"You'll need a disguise. You can't just go waltzing into the hospital like that. You might as well wear a sign saying '**Send me to prison!**'" Frank barked.

"Frank, I'm sorry. I know you don't want to do this," Joe said sincerely, knowing his brother only had his best interests at heart. "I know you're trying to protect me, but if it were Callie lying in the hospital, and no one could tell you if she'd ever wake up again, would you let some judge say you couldn't go see her? What would _you_ do?"

"That's not fair," Frank replied through clenched teeth. _'Callie… No one would stop me from seeing her. They'd die trying.'_

"Maybe not but would you really just sit back and let some piece of paper keep you from seeing her?" Joe pressed. He hated when Frank was angry with him, even if it was warranted.

"No," Frank mumbled, letting out another breath of frustration. "Okay, this is what we're going to do…and you _will_ do it my way or not at all. Got it?" He looked at Joe, his dark eyes warning Joe he'd better agree.

"Got it," Joe agreed. "So, what's the plan?"

"We'll stop by my house and fix up a disguise. By the time we're done even Mom wouldn't recognize you. We'll go to the hospital and I'll get Andrea out of Vanessa's room. It's going to take some doing and she won't want to stay away long so you may only have a few minutes."

"I'll take anything I can get," Joe said, the sadness in his voice piercing a hole in Frank's heart.

As Frank pulled into his driveway and cut the motor, he turned to stare at Joe. "I mean it, Joe. I don't care if you've only been with Van for thirty seconds. When I give you the signal to get out, you _GO_!"

"Promise," Joe replied smothering a grin, as he made an 'x' over his heart with one finger. "Cross my heart and hope to…"

"_DON'T_ say it!" Frank exclaimed. Now thoroughly irritated, he stared at his younger brother a moment longer before getting out of the car, mumbling about the unknown joys of being an only child.

Deciding to give his brother a little time to accept that he had essentially agreed to help Joe break the law, Joe waited a few minutes before following Frank into the house. Walking into the living room he saw Frank talking with Callie, who was holding a pair of green hospital scrubs in her hand. They turned to look at Joe when he entered, then Callie silently handed the clothes to Frank. She walked over to Joe and hugged him tightly for a moment before stepping back.

"I didn't get to do that at the courthouse," she smiled at him. "And for what it's worth, I know you didn't do it. You could _never_ hurt Vanessa."

"Thanks, Cal," Joe replied gratefully.

"So I hear you need a little help with a disguise," Callie arched an eyebrow questioningly. "Planning to break the rules…again?"

"I prefer to think of it as testing them for elasticity. You know, seeing how far I can stretch them before they actually break," Joe philosophized.

"Oh, please," Frank muttered, rolling his eyes as he trudged up the stairs.

"So where'd you get the scrubs?" Joe asked Callie as they followed Frank.

"Remember that case you worked on a few months ago when Frank got stabbed?" Callie prodded him.

"Uh-huh. Looked a whole lot worse than it was," Joe recalled.

"Since his clothes were all bloody, the ER staff gave him the scrubs to wear home."

They had reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hall towards the office where they met Frank coming out the door with a black leather bag in his hand.

"Follow me," he ordered walking into the master bedroom, still not happy with Joe's plan.

"You're gonna have to work really hard to make this up to him," Callie muttered to Joe under her breath. "He is _not_ a happy camper."

Joe shrugged and smiled at her, giving Callie his best puppy dog look.

"Save it, Joe. He's the one you need to beg forgiveness from, not me," she reminded him, following Frank into the bedroom with Joe on her heels.

"Change into these," Frank ordered, tossing the green scrubs at Joe, who caught them and went into the bathroom, wisely biting back the sarcastic comment that had been on the tip of his tongue. While Frank had the patience of a saint, especially when it came to his 'act-first-think-later' younger sibling, even Frank had his limits and Joe knew he was treading dangerously close to those limits.

Quickly changing clothes, Joe re-emerged from the bathroom to see an array of colorful wigs laid out on the bed.

"Ooh, can I be a brunette this time?" Joe asked sounding for all the world like a kid who was playing dress up.

"Redhead – with green eyes," Frank said tersely, handing Joe a wig and a small contact lens case. Obediently, Joe went back into the bathroom, donned the new accessories and came back out.

"What?" Joe asked beginning to squirm under Frank and Callie's scrutiny.

"Something's missing," Frank murmured, his brow creased in thought.

"I know!" Callie blurted out. Grabbing Joe's hand she dragged him back into the bathroom. "Sit," she ordered, pointing to the stool in front of her vanity. Plying through her makeup drawer, she came up with a long, thin pencil.

Turning back to Joe, she put one hand under his chin and gently tilted his head up. "Now, don't move," she advised as she set to work.

"You don't have to do this, Cal. You're aiding and abetting a criminal, you know," Joe cracked, trying to remain still as Callie used the eye pencil to give him a smattering of freckles.

A few moments later Callie stepped back, and smiled admiring her handiwork. Satisfied, she held up her left hand, wiggling her ring finger as she winked at Joe. "We're family now. Aiding and abetting is the least I can do."

Joe turned to look in the mirror almost gasping in astonishment. With the bright red wig, green contact lenses and freckles over his nose and cheeks, he barely recognized himself.

"Wow!" Frank exclaimed as he walked into the bathroom. "Do I know you?"

"You're right," Joe smiled broadly. "Even Mom wouldn't know it was me."

"Well, just don't say anything. Your voice is a dead giveaway," Frank advised. "Come on. I need to take a picture for your hospital ID."

Once again, Joe followed Frank down the hall and into the office where Frank used his digital camera to take several pictures of Joe until he got one he was satisfied with. Using an old ID badge he had from a case where he'd been asked to work undercover in the hospital morgue, Frank superimposed the picture of Joe over his own, producing a valid hospital ID bearing Joe's picture and the name 'Harold Skimpski'.

"_**Harold Skimpski**_?!" Joe exclaimed looking at his older brother in disgust. "You couldn't come up with anything better than Harold Skimpski?"

Frank smiled smugly. "Take it or leave it…_Harold_."

Joe glared at the ID, and then gave his brother a smoldering look. "Fine. Can we go now?"

"Certainly," Frank said happily, making a sweeping gesture towards the door. "After you, Harold."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you, thank you and thank you again for all the reviews! Hope you continue to enjoy the story. :-)

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 9**

Arriving at the hospital twenty minutes later, Frank pulled up to a side entrance, letting Joe get out. "Give us time to park and get up to the room." He then stopped and looked at Callie expectantly.

"Room 408," she supplied the room number.

"It may take a minute or two for us to talk Andrea into leaving, so don't rush it," Frank warned his brother. "I doubt she'll be able to recognize you, but there's no sense pushing our luck."

"Frank?" Joe asked, his voice tinged with anxiety as a disturbing thought occurred to him. "Does Andrea think I did it?"

"No!" Callie said quickly. "I stopped by to see Van this morning. Andrea doesn't believe you could hurt Vanessa under any circumstances. In fact, she said to make sure I told you that. Sorry, it must have slipped my mind," she shrugged apologetically.

"That's okay," Joe told her visibly relieved. "See you upstairs." He waved over his shoulder as he disappeared through the door.

oooOOOooo

Frank and Callie stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor and headed towards room 408.

"There he is," Frank murmured, giving Callie's hand a little squeeze.

Glancing down the hall, Callie saw a red haired young man in green hospital scrubs who appeared to be studying the large wipe off board on the wall next to the nurse's station. Stopping outside Vanessa's room, Frank surreptitiously watched his brother as he reviewed the plan with Callie one final time. She would talk Andrea into going down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee, while Frank would offer to sit with Vanessa, promising to call Callie's cell phone if Vanessa should wake up while they were gone.

"As soon as you're ready to come back, send me a message on my cell so I can get Joe out of there," Frank said nervously.

"I will," Callie reassured him. "Try not to worry," she smiled. "I'm sure it'll all work out fine."

"I hope so. If it doesn't, Joe will end up in prison and I'll end up dead," Frank replied morbidly.

"Excuse me?" Callie asked in surprise.

"If Dad finds out I helped Joe violate the restraining order, he'll kill me for sure," Frank muttered, shaking his head. With a final glance down the hall, Frank saw Joe staring back at him impatiently. Sighing, Frank pushed the door open and got the shock of his life.

"Mom!" he exclaimed. "What…what are you doing here?!"

"Visiting," Laura said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion at Frank's startled reaction to her presence. "I could ask you the same thing. Weren't you supposed to take Joe to get some clothes and then bring him by our house?"

"Yes," Frank replied simply, his mind still reeling at this unexpected turn of events.

"So he's there with your father now?" Laura asked with a piercing gaze. Her internal "mother radar" was throwing off the kinds of signals she hadn't gotten since Frank and Joe were small and had just been caught doing something they had been expressly forbidden to do.

"He wanted to go by our house for a while first," Callie replied, having regained her composure much faster than Frank. "So we wanted to come see Vanessa while we had the chance," Callie explained, and then turned to Andrea. "I'm sure you haven't left this room since last night, have you?" she asked, sympathetically.

Andrea Bender smiled sadly, her hazel eyes red rimmed and swollen from crying. Shaking her head, her dark blonde hair fell across one shoulder. "No," she said quietly, turning back to look at her daughter.

"That's what I thought. Why don't the three of us go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee?" Callie suggested. "Frank can stay with Vanessa. He'll call if she wakes up while we're gone," she said, holding up her cell phone.

"No, I couldn't," Andrea replied, instinctively moving the chair closer to the bed and her injured child.

"Actually, I think that's a good idea, Andrea," Laura said gently, surprising both Callie and Frank.

"If it's alright with you," Frank began looking at Andrea, "I'd like to spend a little time with Vanessa. I promise I'll call immediately if there's any change at all."

"Fifteen minutes, Andrea. That's all," Laura prodded her. "Believe me, I've been in your position more times than I care to remember. The change really will do you good."

Andrea sat silently, considering Laura's words for a moment. She then stood up and leaned down placing a feather light kiss on the top of Vanessa's head. "I'll be back in a few minutes, honey. But you won't be alone. Frank will be right here with you, okay?" She gazed at her daughter a moment longer then turned and started for the door, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Callie.

"You gave Joe my message didn't you?" she asked, concerned.

"Yes," Callie nodded. "I did."

"Good," Andrea replied absently, slowly making her way out the door. Callie and Laura followed with only Callie throwing a glance at the red headed orderly hovering just across the hall.

Alone in the room, Frank got his first good look at Vanessa and his heart filled with sadness. Sterile, white bandages were wound snugly around her head and he could tell where she had struck her head when she fell by the bruising creeping out from under the bandage and beginning to circle her right eye. A small plastic line just under her nose helped supply Vanessa with oxygen, and she had an IV in one hand, ensuring she got plenty of fluids.

"Who did this to you, Van?" Frank said aloud, wishing she were able to answer him.

A sharp gasp startled Frank and he turned to see Joe standing just inside the room, his face pale. Watching his brother carefully, Frank thought he saw a lone tear run down Joe's cheek. Wordlessly, Frank walked to the door, patted Joe on the shoulder and left the room.

…..

Staring at his girlfriend, looking fragile and helpless, Joe fought back the emotions that wanted to take control of him. He knew he only had a few minutes with Vanessa and didn't want to waste them. Taking a seat in the chair Andrea had pulled up next to the bed, Joe reached through the rail and gently took Vanessa's hand in his. A feeling of dread washed over him as he noted the broken fingernails and bruises on her hands and wondered if they matched up with the scratches and bruising on his face.

"Hey, Baby," Joe said, unable to control the tremor in his voice, desperately hoping he wasn't the reason she was here. "Guess we had a pretty rough night last night, huh? I may not be able to come back and see you for a while. At least not until we find out exactly what happened...who did this to you." Joe's voice cracked on the last few words, and the emotions started to break through the barrier he had erected. "I'm sorry, Van. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. I promise, if you come back to me, I promise I'll do better," Joe begged, dropping his head. "I need you…so much more than you need me."

'_What if it __**was**__ me? What if I really __**am**__ the reason she's here? How can I protect her from me? First Iola, now Van…why can't I protect them?'_

Looking up again, Joe stared at Vanessa, holding her hand tightly. He didn't want to break the physical connection, not knowing when – or if – he would ever get the chance to hold her again. Steadying his nerves, Joe continued talking to Vanessa hoping she might recognize his voice and know he was there, even if she couldn't respond.

"Just because I can't come see you, doesn't mean I won't be thinking of you, because I will. Every single minute. Every second." Joe stopped, hesitating. He wanted to tell her if she would just wake up and explain what had happened, the restraining order would be lifted and they could be together, but something stopped him. The 'something' that told him there was a chance that when Vanessa did awaken and identify her attacker, she could be pointing directly at him.

Checking his watch, Joe knew his time was almost up. Standing up, he hovered over the bed. With a shaking hand, Joe reached out, tenderly stroking Vanessa's cheek. "Please come home, Baby," he whispered. Leaning down, he gently pressed his lips to hers.

oooOOOooo

Just outside the room, Frank leaned against the wall, frequently glancing at the clock on the wall over the nurse's station. As his cell phone vibrated in a silent signal, he began walking down the hall to Vanessa's room knowing it would be Callie. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he checked the short message on the display.

_"Coming back."_

Arriving at room 408, Frank pushed the door open ready to hustle Joe out, when he was stopped dead in his tracks. Knowing he shouldn't intrude on such a personal moment, Frank found he was unable to turn away, struck by the utter poignancy.

"Please come home, Baby."

Frank heard Joe's whispered plea, his eyes burning and his heart tightening as Joe leaned down softly brushing his lips against Vanessa's.

In that moment, all the residual anger Frank had directed at his brother for taking such a risk completely vanished. He knew he had done the right thing in helping Joe to see Vanessa, regardless of what the law said. Hating himself for having to tear Joe away from her, he took a few steps into the room.

"Joe. They're on their way back," he said quietly. "We need to go. Now."

Joe straightened up, but didn't turn around. "I love you, Van." With a final brush of his fingertips across her cheek, Joe turned and left the room, never once making eye contact with his brother.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Ooops. I meant to post this last night but it was Thursday and those pretty Winchester boys distracted me. ;-) Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed. You make my day.

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 10**

Frank sighed inwardly keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him, save for the occasional glance at his younger brother in the passenger seat. Joe hadn't spoken a word on the drive from the hospital to Frank and Callie's house. Upon arriving at the house, Joe had changed back into his own clothes, thanked Callie for her help and announced he was ready to leave. They were already halfway to their parent's house and Joe still hadn't uttered a word. Frank wasn't sure he could get used to his motor-mouth brother's new self-inflicted vow of silence. No longer able to take the unnerving quiet, Frank had to speak up.

"Joe, you're driving me crazy here."

Joe turned and looked at his brother blankly. "I haven't said a word."

"Exactly! And it's driving me crazy! Talk to me, Joe. What's going on in that little mind of yours?" Frank cried out in exasperation. "I know you're upset about Vanessa. You have every right to be. But this isn't like you. This total silence. What's going on? What are you thinking?"

Joe stared out the window for a moment at the passing scenery. "That's just it. There's so much going on I feel like I don't know which way is up. How did those drugs get in my gym bag? How did those drugs get into ME? Was there someone else in the apartment with us last night? If so, how did he get in? And why? Did he stab Vanessa?" Joe's voice grew soft. "Or did I?"

"You did NOT stab Vanessa," Frank said vehemently. "And we're going to prove it."

"You mean you're going to prove it," Joe corrected him. "I won't be allowed anywhere near this case. Which means I get to sit around all day and wonder if Vanessa will live or die and if she does am I the one who killed her," he finished, leaning his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes.

Frank felt the anger rising inside him at what Joe was going through and wished he knew who to direct it at. Unfortunately, Joe was right about being allowed to work on the case. And without work to distract him, Frank knew Joe would drive himself crazy worrying about Vanessa and pondering the endless scenario's of exactly how she was attacked and what role he might have played in it.

'_There has to be some way to keep him involved…'_ Frank thought, racking his brain, finally coming up with a temporary solution.

"You hungry?" Frank asked casually, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. It was almost dinnertime – very close to the time Joe had ordered pizza the previous evening.

"No," Joe replied, dejectedly. "Lost my appetite."

"Are you sure?" Frank pressed. "Sure you wouldn't like to stop by Prito's? Maybe pick up a pizza?" he asked glancing at his younger brother. _'Come on, Joe, don't make me have to spell it out for you.'_

"Right," Joe snorted. "What if the guy who delivered the pizza is working tonight? Collig would haul me back in for witness tampering or something."

"I don't know about that. I'm sure if the Chief didn't want us talking to the guy, he wouldn't be shy about calling and telling us. Besides, I'm kinda hungry. I could really go for a pepperoni pizza," Frank said casually. "And if the delivery guy is there, maybe I could strike up a conversation with him. Seeing as how you've suddenly taken a vow of silence…"

The light bulb finally clicked on and Joe turned to his brother excitedly. "Maybe he saw something! Saw someone coming or going or hanging around outside the building! Yes! Frank, you're a genius!"

"So I've been told," Frank joked. "Let's just hope he's here," He finished, turning into the parking lot of Prito's and pulling into an empty space.

They entered the restaurant, immediately coming to an abrupt halt. The lobby was quickly filling up with hungry patrons who were eager to dig into the best Italian food in Bayport. Looking around, Frank saw Tony Prito near the bar area talking to one of the servers in earnest. The olive skinned young man with dark brown hair and even darker eyes was a childhood friend, who never hesitated to jump in and help when Frank and Joe needed assistance.

"Two?" a bright voice asked Frank, although when he turned to look at the hostess, the young woman's eyes were obviously glued to his brother.

"We'll just sit in the bar, thanks," Frank smiled, taking Joe by the elbow and steering him towards a small table in the bar.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the girl with brown hair and green eyes was still staring at Joe. _'How does he do that?'_ Frank shook his head chuckling to himself, becoming serious again when he saw that Joe hadn't even noticed the girl's attention – a sure sign his mind was occupied with more serious matters than flirting.

Noting that Tony had seen them come in, Frank leaned back in his chair and perused the menu, knowing Tony would come over as soon as he got a break. A few moments later, a young man appeared next to their table and took their order, attempting to make small talk with Joe, who was less than responsive.

"Sorry, Brad," Joe finally apologized, being acquainted with the young man from the frequent trips he and Vanessa made to Prito's. "I'm a little out of it today."

"Yeah, I have days like that myself," Brad commiserated, as he left promising to return shortly with their drinks.

"I doubt that," Joe mumbled.

"Hey, guys!" Tony greeted them, pulling up a chair. "How's Vanessa doing? And how are _you _holding up?" he asked, looking at Joe.

"I'm okay," Joe shrugged. "Wish I could say the same for Vanessa." he replied, gazing down at the table.

"Callie called all of us this morning and let us know what happened," Tony explained, referring to the Hardy's tight-knit group of friends. "For what it's worth, Joe, there's no way you did it. No way," Tony said forcefully, shaking his head for emphasis.

"Thanks," Joe smiled at his friend.

"Anything I can do to help?" Tony asked hopefully. "Collig was here earlier with Con Riley. They wanted to talk to Davis – he's the guy who delivered your pizza last night."

"Actually, we were hoping to talk to him ourselves," Frank interjected. "Is he still here?"

"He just left on a couple of deliveries, but he should be back before you finish eating," Tony explained, a sudden loud crash from the kitchen causing him to cringe. "Oh, geez, not again. We have a new server who's all thumbs. I swear if she drops one more dish, Dad will fire her on the spot," Tony said, hurriedly getting up and heading for the kitchen. "I'll be back," he called out, waving his hand.

Once again, Joe lapsed into silence, his thoughts bouncing between worry for Vanessa and guilt that he might have actually been the one who had hurt her. Subconsciously, Joe ran a hand over the bruises and scratches on his face, remembering the bruises and broken fingernails on Vanessa's hand. If he concentrated, Joe could almost feel the softness of Vanessa's skin as he had held her hand earlier in the afternoon. Wearily, Joe moved his hand upward rubbing his eyes.

"You okay?" Frank asked softly.

Joe looked up almost startled, having gotten so lost in thoughts of Vanessa he'd momentarily forgotten he wasn't alone. "Sorry," Joe replied with a wan smile. "I know I'm not good company today."

"I think that's understandable," Frank sympathized as Brad reappeared at the table bearing a large pepperoni pizza. After leaving and returning with fresh drinks, Brad left the brothers to enjoy their dinner.

As Frank had expected the meal was eaten in silence, even though he noted Joe barely finished one slice of pizza. Just as they were finishing up, Tony came back to the table. "Davis just got back. We'll have another round of deliveries for him in about ten minutes. Is that enough time?"

"Should be," Frank replied, pulling out his wallet and throwing a few bills on the table. "Is there somewhere a little more private we could talk?" he requested, eyeing the people that were now crowded into the restaurant.

"You can use the office. This way," Tony said, already making his way towards the alley that led into the kitchen.

Frank and Joe found they had to dodge servers with trays of steaming food as well as busboys carrying bins of dirty dishes, almost running an obstacle course through the alley and kitchen area, finally emerging into a quiet hallway behind the kitchen. Stopping at a door on the right, Tony opened it, leading the Hardy's inside.

A young man of about eighteen with wavy, light brown hair was sitting in a chair, nervously fingering the keys in his hand. His hazel eyes looked slightly larger than normal behind the wire-rimmed glasses he wore, although Frank wasn't sure if that was due to the strength of the prescription or the anxiety at having been called into the bosses office twice in one day.

"Davis this is Frank and Joe Hardy. Guys, this is Davis Rennig," Tony made the introductions, and then took a seat on the edge of the desk.

"Hi," Davis said looking at Joe nervously. "D-does this have anything to do with why the cops wanted to talk to me this morning? Tony said you guys were private investigators."

"Yes, it does," Frank said, smiling at the teenager, hoping to make him feel a little more at ease. "Do you remember delivering a pizza to my brothers apartment last night?"

"Yeah," he eyed Joe warily once more before breaking into a smile. "You're a good tipper."

Joe shook his head and grunted a reply, but couldn't contain a chuckle.

"Can you tell us exactly what happened from the time you pulled up to the apartment building until the time you drove away?" Frank asked.

"Sure, I guess so. I pulled up to the building, checked the order, pulled the pizzas and got out of the car. Then I went up to the front door and rang the buzzer. Some guy answered…you?" He looked at Joe questioningly.

"Yes, it was me," Joe confirmed.

"You asked who it was. I told you I was delivering the pizza's you ordered and you buzzed me in. Told me to take the stairs to the second floor, turn right and you were the last apartment on the left," Davis continued, becoming more relaxed as he spoke. "I knocked on the door, you answered, took the pizza's, paid me and I left," he finished with a shrug.

"Did you see anyone else while you were in the building? Anyone who looked like they didn't belong?" Frank pressed, looking at Davis intently.

"No. Well, I mean I don't think so," the boy replied, suddenly becoming uneasy at Frank's steady gaze.

"What do you mean you don't think so. Did you see someone else or not?" Joe demanded.

"Well, yeah I saw someone else. But he lived there. At least I think he lived there," Davis mumbled.

"Where did you see him?" Frank asked, trying to regain control of the questioning from his brother. Joe was not at all happy with this news and Davis was obviously getting very nervous.

"At the front door. I was going out when he was coming in, so I held the door open for him."

"You _**what**_?!" Joe exploded, advancing on the young man. "People are supposed to use their own keys to get in! Holding the door open for anyone who happens to be standing outside defeats the whole purpose of the security system!"

"I told you I thought he lived there!" Davis stammered, sinking down as if he were trying to become one with the chair.

"Why?! Just because he happened to be standing outside?!" Joe yelled. "If he lived there he would have had a key! He wouldn't need you to hold the door open for him!"

"How am I supposed to know who lives there and who doesn't? I was just trying to be nice!" Davis exclaimed, realizing it was the wrong thing to say as Joe lunged forward, grabbing the front of his shirt.

"You idiot! My girlfriend was almost killed last night!" Joe bellowed.

Instantly, Tony and Frank descended on Joe, prying his fingers loose from the now shaking teenager. "Joe, back off," Frank said firmly. "It was an honest mistake. Not very smart, but an honest mistake, none the less."

"Davis, you can go….NOW!" Tony urged, seeing Joe was not the least bit placated at Frank's attempts to calm him down. Immediately, the young man launched himself out of the chair, a blur of movement as he fled the small office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Tony released his grip on Joe, while Frank kept a slight hold on his younger brother a few seconds longer, not trusting the fire still raging in his deep blue eyes. "Drop it, Joe. He's just a kid who was trying to be polite." Still not letting Joe go completely, Frank turned to Tony. "Can you run out there and see if you can get a description of the guy?" he requested.

"Sure. Be right back," Tony agreed, disappearing out the door.

Once they were finally alone, Frank let go of Joe's arm, but still watched him warily. Joe looked like a bomb that was ready to explode any second. Slowly, Joe took a few tentative steps towards the door.

"Joe…" Frank said warningly as Joe reached for the doorknob.

Stopping in front of the door, Joe raised his right hand, now balled into a fist and brought it down on the door with a dull thud. Not really a punch, but enough of an impact to release some pent up anger. Turning around, he leaned against the door and stared at his brother.

"Damn it, Frank, he let the guy walk right into our building. If he hadn't…"

"If he hadn't someone else would have done the same thing a few minutes later," Frank said gently. "Come on, Joe, how many times have we used the same ruse to get into a locked building."

Joe slumped against the door in defeat, and sighed. "I know. You're right."

"Hey, at least we have a lead now. I can't believe whoever that guy was actually lives in your building. If Davis can give us a halfway decent description and we can get a clear picture from the surveillance video, we might be able to ID the guy," Frank offered, trying to give Joe something positive to hold on to.

"Hey, could you let me in," Tony's muffled voice floated through from the other side of the door. Stepping back, Joe opened the door allowing Tony to enter, noting the look of disgust on his friends face.

"Average height, average build, all dressed in black, and wearing a baseball cap," Tony said, not attempting to hide his disdain for the meager description. "Oh, but he said 'Thank you', so at least we know he's polite."

"Some ID," Joe snorted in disgust. "Let's go," he said, turning and leaving the office, calling out a half hearted thanks to Tony over his shoulder.

"Thanks for your help, Tony," Frank told their friend. "We really do appreciate it. Joe's just…"

"Hey, no need to explain," Tony waved off the attempted apology. "If I were Joe, I'd be out for blood. I just wish Davis could have been more helpful."

"Oh, he was, believe me. Joe's been eating himself up all day, thinking he's the one who stabbed Vanessa. At least this shows him we can be fairly sure he and Vanessa weren't alone in the apartment." Frank moved towards the door as he spoke. "I better go find him before you have one dead delivery guy on your hands."

"Call me if there's anything I can do," Tony yelled down the hall after Frank.

"Will do," came the reply as Frank's footsteps echoed in the corridor.


	11. Chapter 11

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 11**

Fenton Hardy stared at his two sons, listening intently as they related the story of the stranger who had gained entrance to Joe and Vanessa's apartment building courtesy of the helpful delivery boy. Sitting back in his chair, he stared at the ceiling in thought, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Joe, could the man Davis have let into the building been the one who knocked on your door?" Fenton asked, dropping his eyes to look at Joe. "Does the timing fit?"

"Yes," Joe replied without hesitation.

"Hm." Fenton reached forward and picked up the phone. Consulting a list of phone numbers, he punched one in, then sat back and waited.

"Mr. Doyle? Fenton Hardy." "Yes, they're doing as well as can be expected, thank you for asking."

"Like he cares," Joe muttered, referring to his landlord, whom he'd always liked up until now. "He thinks I'm the one who attacked Vanessa."

"But he's wrong," Frank said in a low voice so as not to disturb Fenton's conversation. Frank was bound and determined to tell Joe that he did not stab Vanessa, every chance he got, hoping eventually Joe might start to believe it too.

"Yes," Fenton replied to a question, obviously attempting to end the conversation. "Okay. Thank you. I will. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone, he immediately began to dial again, at the same time relating what Doyle had said to Frank and Joe.

"Doyle said Collig already confiscated the security tapes. At least he's considering the possibility there was someone else in the apartment." He smiled at Joe encouragingly. "Hopefully, he'll let us take a look at the tapes, too."

The conversation with Chief Collig was brief and to the point. He readily agreed to let the Hardy's come down to the police station and look at the tapes the following day. The images weren't clear, showing an average looking man dressed in black. Even with computer enhancement, it was impossible to get good look at his face, prompting Collig to say he hoped Joe might recognize the man Davis Rennig had let into the building as he was leaving.

"Well, at least it's something," Frank said optimistically, seeing the dejected look on his brother's face. "More than we had before."

Standing, Joe picked up the duffel bag he'd dropped on the floor next to the chair. "Thanks for all your help today, Frank," he said giving Frank a half-hearted smile. "See you tomorrow." With that, Joe left the office and went into the house, his footsteps echoing on the stairs as he retreated to his childhood bedroom.

Joe walked into the room, closing the door behind him. Looking around, he smiled in spite of himself. The room looked exactly as it had the day he left – Laura hadn't changed a thing. Walking over to the desk, Joe unzipped the duffel bag and removed the picture of he and Vanessa. He stared at the picture, marveling at how happy they both looked, as if they didn't have a care in the world.

'_God, I miss you so much.' _Swallowing the lump in his throat, Joe placed the picture on the nightstand next to the bed, then returned to the desk before his emotions could take complete control.

Pulling out the mail, he began to leaf through it tossing the junk mail in a trash can beside the desk, and separating the rest into two stacks – one for himself and one for Vanessa. Joe tossed the last envelope onto Vanessa's pile and started to turn away when the return address caught his eye.

**Marcus Wentworth, Attorney-At-Law**

**10286 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 314**

**Los Angeles, California 90208**

'_Why would Vanessa be getting mail from a lawyer?'_

Ripping open the envelope, Joe skimmed the one page letter, his eyes widening in surprise. Flying out of the room and down the stairs, he almost crashed into Frank who had just walked out of the living room after bidding his parents goodnight, en route to the front door.

"You can't leave yet!" Joe exclaimed, snagging the sleeve of Frank's jacket and dragging him back into the living room where Laura and Fenton were seated on the couch watching television. "Dad, look at this!" Joe cried out, thrusting the paper at him.

Frank slipped behind his younger brother and perched on the arm of the couch, reading over his father's shoulder as Laura did the same thing from the other side.

"Joe, did you know about this?" Fenton asked in surprise.

"No! I had no idea! She never even mentioned a great-uncle," Joe replied, agitated. "This has something to do with last night, doesn't it?"

Frank took the letter from his father's hands, reading it once more. The letter was informing Vanessa she had been named in the will of a recently deceased great-uncle and was one of two beneficiaries to whom he had left $75,000. The will stipulated that if either beneficiary died prior to dispensation, the remaining beneficiary would also inherit that share provided the deceased had no will of their own.

"It says if one of them dies before the money is awarded, the remaining beneficiary would receive the entire amount so long as the deceased didn't have a will," Frank paraphrased the details of the letter.

"Because if they had a will, their share of the money would go to their primary beneficiary," Fenton said, thinking out loud. "Joe, do you know if Vanessa has a will?" he asked. Given their chosen careers, he and Laura had insisted Frank and Joe both have wills drawn up, but he knew they were the exception. Most people at their age thought they didn't need one.

"Yeah, she does," Joe replied. "Andrea wanted her to get one."

"Who's Vanessa's primary beneficiary? Andrea?" Frank guessed.

"No." Joe paled slightly. "I am."


	12. Chapter 12

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 12**

The ensuing silence lasted just long enough to become uncomfortable.

"What does that mean?" Laura asked nervously.

"It means whoever attacked Vanessa knew about the will," Frank said eyeing his father as pieces started falling into place. "It wouldn't be too hard to get the information."

"The primary beneficiary of a will cannot collect the money if they are convicted of murdering the deceased," Fenton explained at Laura's bewildered expression. "So if Vanessa died from the stab wounds and Joe was found guilty of her murder, he wouldn't be able to collect the inheritance. In this case it would go to the other beneficiary."

"Who just shot to the top of my suspect list," Frank said angrily. "They're the only person who would know about the inheritance _and_ be able to benefit from it if Vanessa was killed and Joe was convicted."

"I think it's time we found out a little more about this other person," Fenton said getting up and walking through the connecting corridor into the office. Taking a seat behind his desk, Fenton looked at the letter Joe had given him and then picked up the phone, dialing the number on the paper. After getting an answering service and being told the offices were closed for the day, Fenton left a message requesting Mr. Wentworth call him first thing in the morning regarding the will.

"There's not much else we can do tonight, but at least we've got a solid lead to check out in the morning," Fenton commented.

Knowing his father was right, Joe once again bid everyone goodnight and returned to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the windowsill and gazed up at the stars, wondering if Vanessa had been attacked simply because she had been named in a will. Rolling the information around in his head, Joe couldn't come up with anyone other than the other beneficiary as a suspect. Getting the additional inheritance would be a good motive, but without knowing anything more about this person, it was impossible to know whether they had means or opportunity. Staring up into the sky, Joe watched as a shooting star made it's way across the blackness.

"Come back to me, Van," he said quietly.

Getting up, Joe went into the bathroom and got ready for bed. Taking his old Bayport High t-shirt out of the duffel, Joe held it close to his face and inhaled deeply. He automatically smiled at the scent of Vanessa that still lingered on the shirt. Crawling into bed, Joe looked at the picture he had put on the nightstand.

"Night, Babe."

Turning off the light, Joe slid down under the covers holding the t-shirt in his hands. The chaos in his mind quickly gave way to exhaustion and Joe was asleep within minutes.

oooOOOooo

_Joe's eyes darted rapidly around the kitchen as he crouched on the floor, his back to the cabinets. Feeling an overwhelming sense of paranoia, Joe was certain someone was after him._

_He jumped at a noise from across the kitchen. 'What was that?!'_

_Pressing himself into the cabinets, Joe suddenly realized he was clutching something tightly in his hands. Looking down he felt his eyes grow wide as he saw the large butcher knife he was holding._

'_Where'd that come from?' Joe thought as his paranoia skyrocketed. Crawling further into the kitchen, Joe settled himself in the corner. Convinced he was not alone, Joe was now satisfied that at least no one could sneak up on him._

_Looking down at the floor, Joe noticed a trail of red liquid. He tried to stay focused and follow the liquid with his eyes but confusing images kept popping up in his head, distracting him…_

_There had been a knock on the door. Someone had started yelling. Had it been him or someone else? Joe wasn't certain. He thought he saw a shadowy figure, but it always stayed on the periphery of his vision. The sound of shattering glass caused him to flinch. The painful scream that followed made his blood run cold._

_Suddenly, Joe heard yelling, cursing, and the sounds of a struggle. There were more screams but as hard as he looked, Joe couldn't see anyone else in the room. It seemed as if his eyes – and his mind - were playing tricks on him. As the chilling sounds swirled around him, Joe shrank back against the cabinets, confused and scared_

'_What's happening? What's going on?' Joe looked around frantically. He flinched at the sound of another scream and then everything was silent. The only sound was that of Joe's heavy, ragged breathing._

_Looking down, Joe saw that he was still holding the knife but it was now covered in blood, dripping into a small puddle at his feet. Concentrating, Joe visually followed the trail of blood, becoming more anxious and fearful as the red liquid continued to grow. When his eyes finally fell on the source of the blood red liquid, Joe let out a scream that began in the depths of his soul and seemed to last forever…_

Joe awoke with a start, his eyes wide open. Feeling his heart pounding wildly, Joe automatically placed a hand on his chest, shocked to find he was covered in a cold sweat. Pushing himself up slightly, Joe leaned back against the headboard, surprised at his rapid, shallow breathing. Taking several deep breaths, Joe knew what had caused the intense reaction.

Even wide-awake, Joe could still see the blood on the floor, the knife and his hands. He could hear the glass breaking, the sounds of a struggle and Vanessa screaming. What wasn't so clear to Joe was whether he was dreaming, or if he had just relived his own actions of the previous night. Sliding back down under the sheet, Joe considered the other alternative – that what he had just "seen" were violent flashbacks brought on by the LSD. Closing his eyes, Joe fervently hoped the horrible images were simply the result of a very intense nightmare. The alternative was too painful to consider.

oooOOOooo

Arriving at work and finding the office empty, Frank went into the house and made his way back to the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, Frank did a quick visual sweep of the room, coming to a stop at the sight of his younger brother sitting at the table.

"Hey," Joe greeted him tiredly.

Pulling out a chair, Frank sat down across from Joe who was pushing the cereal in his bowl around in circles, while nursing a cup of coffee.

"Hey, yourself. Where are Mom and Dad?" Frank responded.

"Mom dropped her car off for servicing this morning. Dad followed her so he could give her a ride to the hospital," Joe answered continuing to study the bobbing, sugar-coated shapes floating in the milk.

"Have you talked to Andrea this morning?"

"Yeah. No change," Joe replied, slumping back against the chair.

"And how are you doing?" Frank leaned forward slightly. "You didn't sleep well," he observed with concern.

"Not particularly," Joe agreed.

"Nightmares?" Frank asked sympathetically.

"Nightmares. Memories. Who knows." Joe rubbed his eyes.

Frank raised an eyebrow in question, wanting Joe to explain further. "You're starting to remember?"

"That's just it, I don't know. I have no idea if they're nightmares, hallucinations or memories," Joe answered, his eyes showing uncertainty.

"Probably all three," Frank guessed. "What did you see in this dream?"

Joe shuddered slightly as he remembered awakening in a cold sweat. "A knife. Vanessa screaming. And blood. A lot of blood. On the knife, the floor...my hands."

"Anything else?" Frank pushed, feeling a little guilty. He couldn't imagine how scary, and painful, it must be for Joe, grasping at bits and pieces of information that may or may not be real. But Frank knew one of those pieces of information could be all they needed to break the case wide open.

Joe leaned forward and rested his chin on his arms, frowning in concentration.

"I heard more than I saw. Noises. Like there was someone else there, moving around in the apartment. I felt like someone was watching me. And there was a struggle, a fight, but I wasn't involved. I heard someone yelling, cursing."

"Did you see them at all?"

"Just shadows. Like whoever it was purposely stayed out of my line of sight," Joe replied, frustrated. "I heard breaking glass, then she screamed." Joe looked up and stared at his brother, haunted. "She was in so much pain, Frank."

Frank reached across the table and squeezed Joe's shoulder, knowing words were useless.

"I was holding a knife," Joe continued, thinking hard. "At first it was clean, but the next time I looked, there was blood on it. On my hands too. It was dripping onto the floor. I looked to see where it was coming from…" For one brief second, a look of absolute terror passed over Joe's face. Abruptly, he pushed back from the table and began pacing the short length of the kitchen floor, as if the movement could chase away the heart-wrenching image of Vanessa sprawled on the floor.

After a few frenzied passes of the room, Joe stopped at the kitchen sink and stared out the window. A moment later, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll catch them, Joe. Whoever did this will pay." Frank gave his brother the only assurance he could be certain of.

'_What if '__**them'**__ is '__**me'**_ Joe thought, as the image of the bloody knife in his hands repeatedly flashed through is mind.

"Joe? Frank?" Fenton's voice carried down the hall into the kitchen a few seconds before he appeared in the doorway.

"Hi, Dad," Frank greeted him.

"Good morning, Frank," he smiled, taking a seat at the table, motioning for Frank and Joe to join him. "I showed Andrea the letter from Wentworth this morning. George Bender, the benefactor, was her husband's uncle. She said he used to visit them often when Vanessa was a baby. When Andrea's husband died and she and Van moved to New York, the visits started to dwindle and then stopped altogether. They hadn't seen him in over twenty years. But George always sent money to Vanessa on her birthday and holidays. Apparently, George never married. Other than the money he left Vanessa and this other beneficiary, he left most of his estate to charity.

"I asked Andrea if she had any idea who the other beneficiary might be and she mentioned a cousin, Ryan Bender. He's a few years older than Vanessa. Aside from Vanessa, he's George Bender's only other blood relative."

"How well does she know Ryan? Does she know where he lives or how we can get in touch with him?" Joe asked, excited at the new information.

"Unfortunately, no. She never really knew him that well. Ryan's father and Vanessa's father were brothers. Ryan's parents divorced when he was young and his mother got full custody of him. Andrea said it was a bitter divorce. Her brother-in-law was the 'black sheep' of the family. Not a very nice person at all. He was killed a few years later by a jealous husband. His wife moved away shortly after the divorce and Andrea lost track of her and Ryan."

"Well, I'm betting he's right here in Bayport," Frank said, darkly.

"Let's try Wentworth again," Fenton said as he got up from the table. "_If_ Ryan is the other beneficiary, Wentworth will know how to get a hold of him."

Following their father into the office, Frank and Joe listened as he called Marcus Wentworth. After Fenton introduced himself and explained that someone had attempted to kill Vanessa two nights earlier and he thought it might have something to do with the inheritance, the attorney willingly shared what information he had. Leaning closer to the speakerphone, Frank listened intently, jotting down notes on a pad.

Wentworth confirmed that Ryan Bender was indeed the other beneficiary. He also verified that should either beneficiary die prior to receiving the money, their share would go to the primary beneficiary named in their own will. Should they have no will, the money would go to the remaining beneficiary in George Bender's will.

"Mr. Wentworth, what would happen if Vanessa was killed and her primary beneficiary was convicted of her murder?" Fenton asked.

"Well, you know as well as I do, Mr. Hardy, that no one can profit from a crime they've committed. Given that scenario, Ryan would automatically be awarded Vanessa's share of the inheritance."

Frank sat back, listening to the words that validated his original suspicions. The only person who had anything to gain by _both_ Vanessa being killed _and_ Joe being convicted of the crime was Ryan Bender.


	13. Chapter 13

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 13**

After getting Ryan Bender's most recent address from Marcus Wentworth, the attorney told them he would put off dispensation of the will to give them time to investigate. Concluding the phone call, Fenton sat back looking first at Frank and then at Joe, sighing inwardly at the rage burning in Joe's eyes.

"He tried to kill her for money?" Joe growled. "It wasn't even that much!"

"People have been known to kill for less than that," Fenton pointed out. "And we don't know for sure that it was Ryan."

"But now that we have a name and an address, we can get proof," Frank said.

"Then let's get it!" Joe fumed, impatiently.

"Joe," Fenton began, knowing his son was on the verge of exploding and hoping he wasn't about to light the fuse, "You know you can't actively work on this. You have to let Frank and I handle it."

The seething glare on Joe's face told Frank things were about to deteriorate rapidly. "Dad, he has to be included to certain extent. I mean he was there when it happened, even if he doesn't remember much yet. We have no idea what could trigger his memory. Keeping him on the outside of the investigation will only make our job that much harder," Frank pointed out, hoping to convince his father to at least let Joe help out behind the scenes.

Fenton glanced from Joe, who continued staring at him scornfully, to Frank who was attempting to look neutral. He tapped a pencil on the desk a few times, before tossing it aside with a sigh.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do," he told Frank. "But he can't be seen publicly doing anything even remotely related to this investigation." Fenton continued turning his intense gaze on Joe. "Any evidence you uncovered would automatically be considered tainted. It would never make it to court. You'd be shooting yourself in the foot."

Joe exhaled loudly, his anger dissipating as rapidly as it had begun. "I know, Dad. But I can't do nothing. I'll go crazy. Can't I do something behind the scenes? Research? Computer searches? Anything?" Joe pleaded.

"I'm sure we can find something you can do – in _private_," Fenton emphasized, checking his watch. "But right now, we need to get down to the station and take a look at that surveillance video from your apartment building. Maybe you'll see something that will jog your memory."

"What are we waiting for?" Joe was already up and half way to the door, glad to finally be doing something.

oooOOOooo

As Frank drove the three of them to the police station in downtown Bayport, Fenton took the opportunity to call Sam Radley, his long time assistant. Having spoken with Sam the previous evening, Fenton quickly brought him up to date, giving him the information they had on Ryan Bender, meager as it was. He asked Sam to begin a basic background investigation on Ryan, hoping to get more concrete information than what they currently had which was nothing other than suspicion.

Arriving at the station, Fenton told the desk sergeant that Chief Collig was expecting them that morning. A few moments later, Con Riley appeared in the lobby and escorted them into a room with several chairs and a small couch arranged in front of a large television. Video equipment, camera's and a computer sat on a table next to the television.

"Chief will be here in a minute," Con said leaning against a wall. He looked at Joe with a critical eye. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Joe shrugged, noncommittally.

"Any word on Vanessa?"

"No change," Joe replied as the door opened and Ezra Collig walked in.

"Joe. Fenton. Frank," he greeted each of them. Walking over to the television, he popped in a videocassette, continuing to talk to them over his shoulder. "Unfortunately, it's not very helpful. He obviously knew the camera was there and tried to avoid it but also didn't want to call attention to that fact. His face is always turned away just enough that you can't really see anything." Pressing a few buttons, he took a seat on one of the chairs. "Joe, let me know if you want me to stop it, or if you want to see anything again."

Joe nodded, leaning forward in the chair resting his forearms on his knees. The familiar image of his apartment building appeared on the screen as Joe took note of one of his neighbor's exiting the building. A few seconds later, Davis Rennig approached the door and could be seen pressing the buzzer and speaking into the intercom. He then opened the door and disappeared into the building.

Almost immediately, a lone figure approached. The man was dressed in black jeans, a black jacket and wore a plain, dark colored baseball cap. Stepping up to the door, he appeared to be reading the list of names next to the intercom, although he never made any move to press one of the buttons. Keeping his head down, the man never put himself in a position where his face was in full view of the camera. As Joe watched the man, it occurred to him that he was experienced at that sort of thing. His movements appeared to be natural and nonchalant, but a trained eye could easily see he was purposely avoiding the camera without calling attention to that fact.

"He knows what he's doing," Frank murmured, voicing Joe's thoughts. "He's done this kind of thing before."

Suddenly the door opened and Davis Rennig reappeared. Seeing the man standing there, Davis smiled and held the door open for him. The man expertly acknowledged the gesture without ever letting his face be seen by Davis or the camera and vanished into the lobby of the building.

"So much for security," Joe snorted in disgust, still bitterly angry at the ease with which the intruder had gained access to the building.

"Does he look familiar at all, Joe?" Fenton asked.

"No," Joe shook his head in frustration. "He looks like a hundred other guys."

"But a hundred other guys aren't as skilled at evading the camera as he was," Frank pointed out. "That wasn't the first time he's done something like that."

Realizing they wouldn't get anything from the video, Joe stood up, anxious to get back to the office and start searching for information on Ryan.

"Thanks for letting us take a look at it, Chief," Joe said.

"You're welcome. Who knows, maybe you'll remember something about him later on, when you're not trying so hard," Collig replied, hiding his disappointment. He had secretly hoped Joe might recognize the man on the video, although he knew the chances were slim. His biggest fear was that while the investigation would reveal an intruder had indeed been in Joe and Vanessa's apartment that night, it would also provide conclusive evidence that Joe had been the one wielding the knife used on Vanessa.

As they all turned to leave the room, Fenton's cell phone rang.

"Fenton Hardy," he answered crisply. Listening intently, his face clouded over with a look of concern that quickly changed to disbelief. "What?! How?! When?!"

As all eyes stared at him, Fenton's gaze locked on Joe, sending a shiver down Joe's spine. "Is she all right?" Fenton queried. "What did the doctor say?"

Listening to his father's half of the conversation, Joe felt a lead weight drop in his stomach.

"Okay, don't leave her alone again. We'll be right there." Fenton snapped the cell phone shut and placed it in his pocket glancing at Con, Ezra and Frank before looking back to Joe.

"Someone just tried to kill Vanessa."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews. They make my day. :-)

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 14**

"_Someone just tried to kill Vanessa."_

Joe heard the words and felt as if he were suddenly frozen in time, trapped in that heart stopping moment when bad news is received, but not yet comprehended. As the meaning sank in, the words wrapped themselves around his heart and squeezed tightly.

"She's all right." Joe heard his father reassuring him, as Fenton's voice brought him back to the present. "Joe, did you hear me? She's okay."

"What happened?" Joe finally asked.

"Your mother and Andrea went down to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee. They weren't gone more than ten minutes. When they got back to Vanessa's room there were doctors, nurses and a couple of hospital security guards there. One of the nurses had gone in to check Vanessa's vital signs and found a man dressed in hospital scrubs trying to suffocate her with a pillow," Fenton explained. "Unfortunately, he got away."

Without another word, Joe turned and strode towards the door. Frank exchanged a worried glance with his father before taking off after Joe. Catching Joe's arm just before he made it through the doorway, Frank spun him around.

"Where are you going?" Frank asked, certain he already knew the answer.

"To see Vanessa," Joe replied tersely, trying to pull his arm from Frank's iron grip.

"Joe, you can't. You know that," Frank reminded him.

"Someone just tried to kill her! And it wasn't me! I was here," Joe snapped looking at the others, "with two of Bayport's finest as witnesses!"

"Unfortunately, that doesn't negate the restraining order," Fenton concurred. "Joe, you have to stay away from her. At least for the time being."

Joe glared first at his father and then Frank, before finally slumping against the wall in defeat. In a last ditch effort, Joe looked at Ezra Collig, his eyes pleading.

Hating himself for having to enforce a restraining order he knew was unnecessary, Collig shook his head. "I'm sorry, Joe. I can't let you see her. Until the judge lifts that restraining order, my hands are tied."

Joe closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, banging his fist against the hard surface. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked at his brother helplessly.

"Will you go…" Joe had barely begun when Frank cut him off.

"Of course. I'll go to the hospital right now and check on her," Frank said, relieved that Joe had given up on the idea of trying to see Vanessa at least for the time being. "Meet you back at the office?" he asked. "Oh, wait. We all came together."

"I'll give you a ride back, Joe," Con offered.

"Thanks," Joe replied dismally, as he turned and headed out the door.

"Is he going to be all right alone at home?" Ezra asked, concerned, as he watched Joe and Con walk out the door.

"I'll call Biff and ask him to go over and keep Joe company until we get back," Frank replied pulling out his cell phone, knowing Collig was right to be worried. With the news he had just received, leaving Joe alone for any length of time was just begging for trouble.

oooOOOooo

Con Riley pulled into the driveway of the Hardy home and came to a stop. Looking over at Joe, he wondered if he should stick around until Frank returned from the hospital, when a dark blue SUV pulled up to the curb in front of the house. Using the side mirror, Con watched as the driver emerged and a little chuckle escaped from his lips.

Turning to see what had caught Con's attention, Joe rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Apparently Frank thinks I need a babysitter," he muttered as Biff Hooper, his tall, muscular, blonde-haired, blue eyed best friend, strode up the driveway.

Con bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue, as Joe opened the passenger side door and got out of the car. Bidding Joe and Biff goodbye, he backed out of the driveway and headed for the hospital.

Joe walked across the lawn and into the house in silence, followed closely by Biff. Continuing down the hall and into the kitchen, Joe heading straight for the refrigerator. Opening the door, his head disappeared inside. He re-emerged a few seconds later with two cans of soda, one of which he tossed to Biff. Popping the top, Joe took several long gulps. Leaning back against the counter, he eyed his friend speculatively.

"So what did he say, _'Don't let him out of your sight.' _?" Joe asked, knowing Biff's sudden appearance wasn't an accident.

"I believe his exact words were, _'Don't let him do anything stupid.'_ " Biff responded good-naturedly.

Joe shook his head and couldn't help but smile at his brother's concern. While he'd never say it out loud, Joe silently acknowledged that, over the years, he'd given Frank ample reason to feel that way.

"You weren't planning on doing anything stupid today, were you?" Biff raised an eyebrow questioningly as he took a swig of soda.

"No, not today," Joe replied. "You're safe."

"Good. Frank has a tendency to get rather testy when we don't follow his instructions to the letter."

"I hear ya," Joe chuckled, thinking back on all the times he'd faced Frank's wrath for making spur of the moment changes to some of Frank's meticulously well thought out plans. Pushing himself off the counter, Joe crossed the kitchen in a few long strides and took a seat at the table.

"Do you have any leads?" Biff inquired.

"Yeah, actually, we do," Joe replied and proceeded to tell Biff about the letter from Marcus Wentworth, the information he'd given them on the other beneficiary and the specific criteria that had to be met to receive the inheritance, concluding with Andrea's comments about Ryan Bender.

Taking a moment to absorb all the information, Biff let out a low whistle. "Could the guy be anymore obvious?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "No one on the entire planet other than him would benefit from Vanessa being killed and you being convicted of doing it."

"Not as far as I'm concerned. He's the only one," Joe agreed. "But we need proof. Sam has already started a background check on him. When Dad and Frank get back, we'll decide what to do next."

As the two young men lapsed into silence, Biff noted the look of sadness creeping into Joe's eyes, growing increasingly more intense as the minutes passed. Unable to drive the nagging thought from his mind, Biff wondered how Joe would cope if Vanessa succumbed to her injuries. He remembered the stranger Joe had become after Iola's death – angry, reckless and full of rage. Meeting Vanessa had been the turning point for him. Slowly, over the next few years, Vanessa had coaxed the old Joe Hardy out of hiding and infused him with a passion for life that had been missing much too long.

Could he survive losing Vanessa, too, Biff wondered. Probably, he decided, but he'd be changed forever. The angry stranger would return and Biff knew, more than likely, the change would be permanent.

'_Nope, can't let that happen,'_ Biff vowed, studying his friend carefully. _'Gotta keep his spirits up. Keep him thinking positively.'_

"Hey, do you remember the first time you tried to teach Vanessa how to drive your motorcycle?" Biff asked, hoping to turn Joe's obviously dark thoughts to memories of happier times.

"Do I," Joe replied with a smile. "I've got permanent scars to remind me."

"I wasn't sure your bike was going to survive that day."

"Forget my bike!" Joe exclaimed. "I wasn't sure _I_ was going to survive!"

Biff agreed, laughing at one particular recollection. "Man, when she hit the curb and you went flying off the bike I thought for sure you were a goner. You never even saw it coming."

"I think that was the one and only time my life flashed before my eyes," Joe said wistfully.

"I remember watching you sail through the air, and trying to figure out how I was going to explain to your parents that even though you'd tangled with every criminal element known to man and survived, you'd suddenly been done in by your girlfriend trying to drive through an immovable object during her first lesson on how to steer a motorcycle." Biff recalled every detail as if it had happened yesterday. "You should have seen the look on her face when you didn't get up right away. She thought she had killed you."

Joe leaned back in the chair, a smile dancing in his eyes. "She got the hang of it eventually. But she swore she'd make it up to me no matter how long it took."

"Yeah, and as I recall you milked that for all it was worth," Biff teased.

"Of course," Joe winked at him with a devilish grin.

"Hey how about the time you got mad at Frank during finals and told him too much studying resulted in temporary short term memory loss?" Biff asked, seeing his planned distraction was having the desired effect. "By the end of that week I think you and Vanessa had him convinced it was true!"

"Yeah, I'll never forget that," Joe acknowledged, with a chuckle.

It had been a few weeks before Frank graduated from high school and Frank had promised Joe that he would accompany him to a car show at the Southport Convention Center that weekend. Joe had been eagerly looking forward to it for weeks not only because he'd get to see the latest in high performance cars, but because he was going to share it with his older brother. When Frank headed off to college in the fall, Joe knew their time spent together just hanging out would be limited so he wanted to spend as much time as possible with his brother before that happened.

However, two days before the show, Frank begged off saying his chemistry teacher had announced the final exam, which accounted for fifty percent of their final grade, would be that Monday. Wanting to maintain his 4.0 average, Frank intended to spend the entire weekend studying, despite the fact that he already knew the material by heart.

Joe did everything he could to get Frank to change his mind, but Frank refused. Hurt and disappointed, Joe told him it was a proven fact that too much studying resulted in temporary short-term memory loss. Later that night as he griped to Vanessa about being abandoned by his older brother, Joe commented that he wished he could actually make Frank believe he was starting to forget things.

"That was when I realized you and Van were destined to be together. She's even more devious than you are!" Biff laughed out loud.

"She was that week," Joe agreed.

Seeing how disillusioned Joe was by Frank's last minute cancellation of their plans, Vanessa planted a few ideas in Joe's head as to just how he might make Frank believe his short term memory was starting to fail.

"The musical cars and disappearing books were bad enough, but I think changing the password on his computer almost did him in." Joe chortled, remembering the covert operations he and Vanessa carried out against Frank that week…

_Monday morning found Vanessa seated in her car in the school parking lot, waiting for Frank and Joe to arrive. When Frank finally_ _pulled into the lot and parked the van he and Joe shared, Vanessa parked two spaces away. Later that morning, she and Joe ran outside and moved the two vehicles, putting the van where Vanessa's car had originally been and her car in the space Frank had parked in. That afternoon, as he and Frank walked to the van, Joe took great joy in watching his brother approach the spot where he knew he had parked that morning and come to an abrupt halt. Frank stared at Vanessa's car for a moment or two before slowly walking to the van with a bemused expression on his face._

_Buoyed by the success with the car switch, Joe took on something a little more challenging the next day. As he did every day, Frank stopped at his locker before lunch to drop off the books from his morning classes and pick up the ones he needed for the afternoon. Heading to the cafeteria, he dropped his backpack at the table Joe and their friends had commandeered before getting in line to purchase the mystery meal of the day. With Vanessa as a lookout, Joe discreetly removed one book from Frank's backpack and put it in his own, returning it to Frank's locker shortly after lunch. While Joe regretted not having the chance to see the look on Frank's face when he discovered the missing book at the start of class, he did enjoy the stunned look on Frank's face when he opened his locker after school and saw the offending book still on the shelf._

_That night when Joe walked into Frank's room to return a shirt he had borrowed, he noted that his brother was changing the password on his computer. The next day, Joe and Vanessa snuck out of school, for a quick trip to the Hardy home. Using her extensive computer skills, Vanessa promptly changed the password on Frank's computer back to the old one. That night while studying in Joe's bedroom, he and Vanessa exchanged triumphant high-fives as they listened to Frank's muttered curses at his computer floating in through the open doors of bathroom that connected the brothers' bedrooms._

_The end of the week brought another disappearing book, a misplaced set of keys and a "lost" jacket causing Frank to wonder if the stress of finals had indeed caused him to become forgetful. When Joe overheard him pose this question to Callie, he casually mentioned to Frank that if he had accompanied Joe to the car show as he had_ _originally promised, he would have been more relaxed, less stressed and his short-term memory would have remained in tact._

"Did you ever fess up to that?" Biff asked, chuckling at the memory.

"Are you kidding?!" Joe exclaimed, horrified. "He would've taken me out to the cliffs on Shore Road and tossed me over the edge! Uh-uh. That secret goes to the grave," Joe warned.

"He won't hear it from me," Biff promised, sitting back with a self-satisfied smile, noting that his friend seemed a little happier than when he'd first arrived.

Hearing a car pull into the driveway, Joe checked his watch and was surprised to see he and Biff had been talking for well over an hour. He knew had Biff not been there to remind him of happier times with Vanessa, the wait would have been unbearable.

As they heard the front door open, Biff stood and downed the last of his soda. "Guess my job here is done."

"Hey, thanks, man," Joe said, gratefully. "If you hadn't been here to keep me occupied I probably would've…"

"…done something stupid?" Biff said, wryly.

"Something like that," Joe nodded.

Walking out to the foyer, they met up with Frank and Fenton.

"How is she?" Joe asked anxiously.

"She's stable," Frank assured him.

"Did you talk to the nurse? Get a description of the guy?"

"She didn't really get a good look at him," Fenton answered. "When she walked in and surprised him, he threw the pillow at her and took off. All she saw was a blur of green hospital scrubs."

As Joe listened, the apprehension that had begun to dissipate while he had been reminiscing with Biff returned even stronger. Whoever wanted Vanessa dead was still on the loose. With no description of her attacker, would they be able to find him and stop him? Or would his next attempt on Vanessa's life end in success?


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Glad you enjoyed a glimpse into the Joe and Vanessa's past. :-) Vanessa's motorcycle adventure was actually one of my own that I let her borrow. My boyfriend at the time didn't end up any worse off than Joe did but I let Vanessa off easy. When it happened to me I ended up with a few broken ribs, several layers of skin missing and a motorcycle laying across my back pinning me to the curb. Loads of fun:p

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 15**

Joe fought back the panic that wanted to unleash itself at the reality of just how vulnerable Vanessa was. Hospital security would never be able to protect her from an unknown assailant who wanted her dead, especially when they didn't have even the vaguest description of the man.

"She's still in danger," Joe said worriedly. "He'll try again."

"Probably," Fenton concurred. "I asked Collig about a police guard but he's still got so many officers out with the flu he can't spare anyone." As Joe began to protest, Fenton held up a hand to stop him. "But he had no opposition to my privately hiring off-duty police officers from another jurisdiction. I called my contact at the Southport police department and got a list of officers who do private security work on their own time. Vanessa will have a twenty-four hour guard until she's released or this guy is caught."

Joe stared at his father in amazement. Mentally calculating what it must have cost, he was a little overwhelmed and momentarily lost for words.

Watching the exchange, Frank gave a nod of thanks to a discreetly departing Biff and then slipped into the office leaving Joe and Fenton alone.

"Dad…thank you," Joe finally spoke. "I don't know what to say."

Fenton smiled and reached out squeezing Joe's shoulder. "You and Vanessa have been together so long she's like a daughter to me. And it's what I would have done if it were you or Frank lying in that hospital. No thanks are necessary. Now let's get to work and catch this guy, huh?" Fenton said, nudging Joe towards the office.

Nodding in agreement, Joe accompanied his father into Fenton's private office where Frank was seated at the conference table talking to lean, sandy-haired Sam Radley, who had arrived just moments earlier. As Joe and Fenton took seats at the table, Sam pulled out his notes and laid them out in front of him. Looking down at the papers, Sam began to recite what he'd learned.

"Ryan Bender. Twenty-six years old, currently living in Miami, Florida. Only child of Gregory and Sarah Bender. They went through a pretty nasty divorce when he was six years old and Sarah got full custody. As soon as the divorce was final, she took him and moved to Fort Lauderdale, Florida to be closer to her family. Gregory Bender was killed a few years later by a jealous husband.

"Right now Ryan manages a nightclub called The Vault in downtown Miami. It's an old bank that's been renovated into a club but still has a lot of the bank's original furnishings and architecture. He's been arrested twice on drug charges. The first time for possession. He got probation. The second time, possession with intent to sell. Got six months jail time. As soon as he got out, he started working at the nightclub, first as a bartender, then bar manager, assistant manager and eventually he took over running the place." Sam looked up from his notes to see Fenton frowning in concentration.

"It's pretty unusual for an ex-con to land a job like that right out of prison without some kind of connection," Fenton said thoughtfully.

"He's got one," Sam said ominously. "The club is owned by Juan Mendoza."

Fenton's eyebrows shot up at the name.

"Yup, that Mendoza," Sam confirmed.

"Who's Juan Mendoza?" Joe asked at his father's reaction to the name.

"He's the head of Miami's most notorious crime syndicate. They make most of their money in illegal drugs but they've got a hand in just about everything – prostitution, money laundering, extortion, protection, gambling."

"You name it, they've got a piece of it," Sam concurred. "Apparently when Ryan was in prison, his cellmate was Mendoza's grandson. One of the other inmates tried to kill him one night and Ryan saved his life. Mendoza was so grateful, he set him up at the club as soon as he was released from prison."

"So Ryan works for organized crime," Frank said absently thinking out loud. "Whose main source of income is drugs. Which would give him easy access to large quantities of LSD." He let the implication hang in the air.

"I checked out the club, but other than being owned by Mendoza, it comes up clean," Sam concluded.

Fenton nodded, but remained silent for a moment, digesting all the information. Leaning forward, he looked from Sam to Frank. "I want you to fly down to Miami and see what else you can dig up. Sam, you talk to the local police. We've worked with them a few times in the past, I'm sure they'll give you any information they have. Frank, you go to the club, talk to the employees and see what you can find out. Also, talk to Ryan's landlord and his neighbors. I'll see if I can get you on a flight out tonight. That way you can start first thing in the morning."

Joe sat listening to the plans being made and felt useless. Guilt at not being able to protect Vanessa in their own home was slowly eating away at him and now he couldn't even actively participate in finding the man who obviously wanted her dead. He knew his going to Miami was out of the question. He couldn't leave Bayport without permission from the court and no one could know he was even remotely involved in the investigation. Hearing his name, Joe pushed aside the growing feeling of hopelessness and refocused on what his father was saying.

"Joe and I will do some background work from here and see if anyone we've put away has been released or escaped recently. I want to rule out any other possibilities before we take this to Collig," Fenton said looking at Sam and Frank, "Any questions?"

With negative responses from everyone, Fenton dismissed Sam and Frank to go home and pack, while he went to make airline reservations for them. Standing up, Frank motioned for Joe to follow him out to his car. Frank could see that his brother was starting to get depressed at being relegated to searching for background information and being left out of the active part of the investigation.

"Joe, promise me you'll stick close to Dad until I get back," Frank requested. "Do whatever he asks and lay low, okay."

"Yeah, fine, whatever," Joe replied, sourly.

"No, not whatever. I don't want to be worrying about you while I'm gone. Don't lose your temper, don't argue with Dad and _don't_ try and see Vanessa," Frank ordered.

Joe couldn't help but smile at Frank's list of do's and don'ts, thinking he sounded like a parent who was leaving their teenage child alone for the weekend for the first time. "Yes, _Dad_," Joe quipped. "And I won't have any wild parties while you're gone either."

Frank rolled his eyes at the jab, but felt a little relieved. "Just don't do anything that would get your bail revoked. I don't want to have to go visit you in prison. We should be back by tomorrow night," Frank concluded getting into his car and starting it up. Looking at his brother, Frank could see Joe was still distressed despite the wisecracks. "Don't worry, Joe. We'll find him."

"Yeah, I know," Joe replied, although he still sounded troubled.

"Joe, you didn't stab her," Frank said softly.

"Have a safe trip," Joe said as he stepped back from the car, not acknowledging Frank's words.

Sighing, Frank backed out of the driveway, wondering what it would take to get Joe to actually believe it.

Bypassing the office, Joe went upstairs to his bedroom and shut the door. Sitting on the bed, he picked up the photo of he and Vanessa, staring at it until his vision blurred. Suddenly the image from the photograph was replaced with visions of knives and blood and broken glass. A painful scream echoed in his head and Joe dropped the photo onto the bed. Getting up he paced the room, willing the flashbacks away back into the recesses of his memory. Sitting at the desk, he focused on what they had learned so far when he realized one very basic question had yet to be answered.

Grabbing his cell phone, he quickly punched in Phil Cohen's number. Wiry, dark haired, Phil Cohen had been a friend of the brothers' since before high school. He was a genius when it came to computers and electronics and had often used those skills to help out on their cases.

"Hello?"

"Phil? It's Joe."

"Joe! Hi! Biff called me earlier and told me what happened. How's Vanessa? Any change?"

"No, no change," Joe replied, a note of dejection in his voice.

"Hey, I know she'll be okay. She's a fighter, like you," Phil said confidently. "Is there anything I can do to help you find the guy?"

"As a matter of fact, that's why I'm calling," Joe responded. "Frank and Sam are flying down to Miami tonight to see what they can find out there. But I just realized we don't know for sure if Ryan – Ryan Bender, our prime suspect - is even here in Bayport or not. Any chance you'd be willing to hack into the airline computers? See if he's flown into town in the last few days?" Joe asked hopefully.

"My pleasure," Phil said, happy to be able to actively help out. "I'll call you back in half an hour."

"Thanks, Phil."

Joe snapped the phone shut and sat back to wait. Twenty-five minutes later, Joe pounced on the ringing phone.

"Phil?"

"Ryan Bender arrived in Bayport two days ago on United Airlines Flight 1032 out of Miami," Phil said excitedly. "He had a return reservation for last night but it was changed."

"He wanted to make sure Vanessa was dead," Joe said, angrily. "When she wasn't he couldn't leave."

"It gets better. He changed it to a flight that was supposed to leave tonight, but that one was also changed about an hour ago. According to the notes in the airline computer, he intends to return to Miami but asked to leave the return date open. Which means…"

"Which means he's still in Bayport," Joe finished for him.


	16. Chapter 16

Under The Influence 

**Chapter 16**

Frank reached for his coffee, stifling a yawn.

"Sorry." He smiled sheepishly at Sam Radley, seated across the table from him in the hotel restaurant, as the early morning sun streamed in through the windows.

By the time their flight had arrived in Miami they'd rented a car and found a hotel, it was close to midnight. Although he'd quickly fallen asleep, Frank found it was a restless sleep. He tossed and turned and awoke several times during the night, worried about Joe, Vanessa and what the morning would bring.

"I won't take it personally," Sam chuckled. "You about ready?"

Frank nodded, draining the last of his coffee. "Let's go."

As agreed, Frank dropped Sam off at police headquarters, promising to pick him up as soon as he was done talking to Ryan Bender's landlord and neighbors. Checking the address Sam had written down, Frank consulted a map for directions and then pulled into traffic for the short trip to Ryan's apartment.

oooOOOooo

"So, what can I help you with?" The overweight, middle-aged man asked.

Seated across a desk from the landlord of the apartment complex where Ryan lived, Frank was glad to see the man appeared friendly and outgoing if slightly disheveled. Stanley Gormer hadn't even asked Frank who he was or why he was so interested in Ryan Bender, seeming to be happy just to have someone to talk to. Frank could understand that, as he'd had no luck at all in questioning any of Ryan's neighbors. It appeared everyone was working or had already left to complete early morning errands.

"What can you tell me about Ryan Bender?" Frank asked, deciding to forgo his cover story unless Gormer asked.

"Ryan Bender, huh? Nice enough guy. He's been a good tenant for the most part. No loud parties or anything like that," he laughed. "Then again he does manage that club downtown so he's probably looking for peace and quiet when he gets home. One strange thing though…" The man sat back rubbing his chin, thoughtfully.

"Oh?" Frank said expectantly.

"He's been late with the rent a few times this year. Always told me about it ahead of time, and paid it when he said he would. But he's been here several years and that's never happened before. Think he's having some kind of money troubles?" the man questioned.

"That's a possibility," Frank concurred. "How many times was he late with the rent?"

"It was twice," Gormer replied, reaching for a receipt book on his desk. Flipping back several pages he let out a satisfied grunt. "First time in March and again in May. And he said he might be late this month. But that's because he had to go out of town at the last minute and wasn't sure when he'd be back. Some kind of family emergency he said."

"Family emergency?" Frank quirked an eyebrow. "When did he leave?"

"Couple of days ago," Gormer's beeper suddenly went off causing him to jump. "Sorry, I have to go check this out," he said after reading the brief message. "Anything else?"

"No, you've been very helpful. Thank you." Frank stood and shook the man's hand before leaving the office.

Checking his watch, Frank noted he still had quite a bit of time left before he had to pick up Sam at the police station. Watching to make sure Gormer was headed in the opposite direction, Frank quietly made his way to Ryan's apartment.

Donning a pair of latex gloves he'd stuffed in his pocket, Frank glanced down the hall, checking both ways. Satisfied that he was alone, Frank crouched down in front of the door to pick the lock. Envying Joe's lightning quick lock picking skills, Frank felt as if it was taking forever. Just as he felt a drop of sweat roll down his forehead, the lock popped open.

Quietly slipping inside, Frank stopped and scanned the room. A combination kitchen/dining room was off to his left, with a living room that opened up onto a balcony on the right. Frank noted the tidy surroundings that confirmed Ryan Bender liked things neat and orderly. Moving quietly down the hall in front of him, Frank glanced into the first room on the right, which turned out to be a bathroom. Continuing on, he poked his head into the next room. By the light streaming in through the windows, he could see it was a makeshift office and he quickly sat down at the desk next to the window and turned on the computer.

Smiling grimly, he was happy to see Ryan didn't bother with a password. Searching the files, Frank was disappointed to find there was nothing he could use. It appeared Ryan Bender used his computer mostly for games and surfing the Internet. Logging on, Frank hoped Ryan had stored his password and was rewarded when the screen of a popular Internet provider popped up.

Checking the history, Frank pumped a fist into the air in a silent cheer of triumph, as he began following a trail of links to various websites having to do with Bayport. Opening the link to the Bayport Times, Frank scanned the articles Ryan had looked at. One of the first dealt with a ceremony honoring the Hardy's for their work in the community and showed a picture of Fenton, Laura, Frank, Callie, Joe and Vanessa.

'_That explains how he knew Joe and Vanessa were a couple,'_ Frank mused. He'd been curious as to how Ryan seemed to know so much about a cousin he hadn't seen or heard from since he was six years old.

Digging a little deeper, Frank gasped when an article from several years earlier appeared on the screen. A slight shiver ran down his spine as he skimmed over the story surrounding Joe's kidnapping, forced drug addiction and subsequent stint in rehab almost six years earlier.

'_So he obviously did his homework on Joe, too,'_ Frank frowned.

Rummaging around in a desk drawer, Frank found a blank disc and popped it into the drive, copying all the pertinent articles and links. Checking his watch, he realized he had to hurry if he wanted to check the rest of the apartment before he had to pick up Sam at the police station. Quickly scanning the other links, he found one that led to a website for a Bayport attorney. Not exactly sure what that meant, Frank still felt it was important and copied the link onto the disc. Checking one last link, Frank found it was an online Bayport phone directory, leading to the page containing Joe and Vanessa's address and phone number. Adding that information to the disc, Frank logged off and shut down the computer.

Pocketing the disc, he quietly made his way back to Ryan's bedroom, where a quick search turned up nothing useful. As he turned to leave, his eyes fell on a hairbrush resting on top of the dresser. Recalling Chief Collig's comment about Joe and Vanessa's lab tests turning up unknown DNA, Frank made a spur of the moment decision. Walking out to the kitchen, he poked around until he found a small Ziploc bag, which he carried back to the bedroom. Carefully removing several strands of hair from the brush, he placed them in the bag. After one last sweep of the apartment to ensure everything was in place, he left with just enough time to pick up something for lunch and make it back to the police station.

oooOOOooo

"I spoke with a Detective Joseph Martinez," Sam said as Frank drove steadily towards The Vault. "He said they're certain there's something going on at The Vault that's not exactly legal but they don't have any proof. Mendoza makes sure everything that goes on there is above reproach."

"Do they have any idea what it is they're looking for?" Frank asked, intrigued at the information.

"Money laundering most likely, but the books are spotless. They've tried sending in undercover agents, moles, but they still come up empty. They even had an undercover officer get a job there, but when they thought he was getting too nosey he was fired."

"Maybe we'll have better luck," Frank murmured as he eyed the large granite building on their right, the words _'The Vault'_ etched into its façade. Driving past it, Frank pulled into an open space in the next block. Getting out of the car, he and Sam backtracked to the club.

Walking in, Sam and Frank stood taking in their surroundings. A long bar took up one entire wall, while the opposite wall showed a disc jockey's booth set up behind the glass wall of teller's windows, apparently one of the bank furnishings that were kept in tact. A large hardwood dance floor took up a good chunk of the room with tables and chairs lining the back wall. To the left of the seating area against the back wall was a large, impressive, floor to ceiling bank vault.

"Can I help you?" a voice called out from behind the bar. "We're not open yet."

"Yeah, is Ryan around?" Sam asked sauntering over to the bar.

"Who's askin'?" The dark haired young man asked suspiciously.

"Couple of friends," Frank replied sidling up beside Sam. "Ryan said he might have some openings. Is he here?" Frank repeated Sam's query.

"No, he's not in," the man replied, wiping down the bar in slow, deliberate circles.

"That's okay. We'll wait," Sam said amiably, taking a seat on an empty stool. "When did you say he'd be back?"

"I didn't."

"Oh. So when _will_ he be back?" Sam asked, attempting to keep the man's attention focused on him and not on Frank who appeared to be absently wandering about the club, while attempting to find the office.

"I don't know," the man replied getting irritated. "He's out of town."

"Hmm. He didn't tell us he'd be going out of town," Sam frowned. "Where'd he go?"

"I don't know," he repeated, as Frank's movement's caught his eye. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Who me?" Frank asked, imitating Joe's best wide-eyed innocent look. "Just lookin' around. Hey, where's the bathroom?"

"Down there," the bartender pointed down the hall next to the large vault. "But make it quick. And then get out. Ryan ain't here and he's the one who does all the hiring and firing."

"Thanks." Frank smiled and disappeared down the hall, chuckling at Sam's continuous, annoying attempts to get the bartender to inadvertently tell whatever he knew about Ryan Bender.

Passing the restroom, Frank continued on down the hall finding a janitorial closet and a stairway leading to a basement storage area before coming to a large oak door marked "Office". Pulling his shirttail out, Frank wrapped it around his hand and tried the door, not surprised to find it locked. Just as he was about to pull out his lock picks, a door at the end of the hall opened, and bright sunlight streamed in. Blinking rapidly, Frank saw two figures step through the door coming to an abrupt stop. With the sun shining in his eyes through the open door, Frank was unable to make out anything about the two men other than the fact that they were rather large and not very happy to see him.

"Who are you? And what are you doing?" one of the figures asked menacingly.

"Just lookin' for the bathroom," Frank replied.

"You passed it," the figure pointed down the hall behind Frank.

Frank sighed as he realized they were obviously going to wait until he had used the bathroom and left, before they vacated the hallway.

"Thanks," he said, turning and making his way into the bathroom. Emerging a few minutes later, Frank saw the two men hadn't moved an inch. Waving at them, he turned and joined Sam back at the bar.

"My buddy here says we need to come back when Ryan is here," Sam told Frank, pointing at the now aggravated bartender.

"Okay," Frank shrugged. "Bye," he said amiably waving at the man who continued to glower at he and Sam as they exited the club.

"Well, that didn't get us very far," Frank said dejectedly, heading down the street. "We need to get back inside and get a look at his office."

"Agreed," Sam replied. "But we still have a lot of other information we didn't have before. We know he used his computer to track down Joe and Vanessa's address, and found out about Joe's addiction and rehab. That fits in perfectly with the theory that he tried to set Joe up as at least experimenting with drugs. And we have the name of a Bayport attorney to check out. That's gotta mean something."

"Still, we need…" Frank was abruptly cut off by two men who suddenly appeared in front of them.

Cursing himself for letting his guard down, Frank eyed the two men warily, certain they were the two he had encountered in the hallway. One was tall and blonde, with bulging muscles. The second, taller still although somewhat leaner, had black hair slicked back into a ponytail, and dark eyes that glinted with menace.

"Care to join us, gentlemen?" the blonde asked, the gun in his hands indicating he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Right this way," the second man said. Having maneuvered behind the two, he poked Sam in the back with his gun, nudging him towards the alley next to the nightclub.

Exchanging a glance, Sam and Frank realized they were trapped for the moment and let themselves be led into the deserted alleyway. Strewn with trash, empty boxes and scurrying rats, they walked past an overflowing dumpster and were roughly shoved forward until they came to a stop at the chain link fence at the end of the alleyway. The dark haired thug grabbed Sam by the shoulder and spun him around, while the blonde held Frank up against the fence.

"Why are you so interested in Ryan Bender?" he demanded.

"Hey, we're just looking for work…Ooof!" Sam doubled over gasping for air, as his response was met with a swift punch to the stomach. Wincing as he tried to catch his breath, Sam shuddered when he heard Frank being dragged back a few steps and the familiar click of a switchblade. Slowly looking up, he saw the blonde was now standing behind Frank, holding one of Frank's arms at a painful angle behind his back, and a knife dangerously close to his throat.

"Care to rethink your answer?" the man smiled, pressing the knife into the tender flesh of Frank's neck, allowing a small trickle of blood to escape.


	17. Chapter 17

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 17**

Sam kept his eyes glued to the knife at Frank's throat. "Why? There's nothing else to tell," he said, sticking to their cover story.

"Listen, Ryan knows better than to invite two guys in off the street. There are certain…procedures…that need to be followed. He'd never deviate from that. Never. Now, who are you and-" The loud angry cry of a cat that had been disturbed in his search for food startled the two thugs who automatically spun in the direction of the sound.

Needing no invitation to take advantage of their momentary distraction, Frank used his free arm to drive his elbow up and back, making contact with the blonde man's temple. The knife flew from his grasp as he fell to the ground clutching his head, which made a sickening crack as it connected with the street, much to Frank's satisfaction. Turning, Frank saw that Sam had made quick work of the pony-tailed man who had sucker punched him.

"Shall we go?" Sam smiled.

"With pleasure," Frank replied, dabbing at the small cut on his neck with a handkerchief.

"You okay?" Sam asked as he walked towards the entrance of the alley.

"Yeah, it's just-" Frank stopped, rolling his eyes as their path was once again blocked by a young man who had limped out from behind the dumpster. "Not again," he muttered.

"No, not again," the brown haired man replied. He limped a few steps closer to Sam and Frank, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "You lookin' for information on Ryan Bender?"

"Who's asking?" Sam questioned, thinking the man had appeared a little too conveniently.

"Rick," he answered, offering his hand. "Rick Moreno."

Glancing at Frank, who nodded slightly, Sam offered his hand. "Sam Radley. And this is Frank Hardy," he said, jerking his head towards Frank. "You know Ryan?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Rick spat out disgustedly.

"How?" Frank pressed.

Looking them over, Rick made an offer. "Buy me lunch and I'll tell you all about him."

oooOOOooo

"Yeah, I thought I had it made. Nice job workin' for the organization. Great money. Gorgeous women coming in and out of the club all the time. Working with my best friend. Yeah, me and Ryan, we were on top of the world," Rick enthused, his eyes glimmering with long ago memories. Reaching forward, he took another long drink of soda, before wolfing down a few more bites of the hamburger he'd ordered.

Frank looked across the table at Sam, who chuckled silently. _'He eats more than Joe!'_ Frank thought mesmerized, eyeing Rick's smallish form. _'Where does he put it all?'_

"So you met Ryan when he started working at The Vault?" Sam recapped the little bit of information they'd gleaned so far in between bites of food.

"Yeah. I was manager then. He started as a bartender and worked his way up."

Sam smiled almost imperceptibly, as Rick confirmed what he had already learned.

"One day the boss came to me and told me he wanted me to take over running the casino and Ryan was going to be promoted to manager of The Vault."

"Casino?" Frank asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, the casino." Rick looked from Sam to Frank, laughing. "You don't think that giant vault at the back of the club is just there for show do you? It's the entrance to the illegal gambling casino." Rick shook his head at the confused looks he was getting. "The original bank had a huge vault in the basement of the building. At one time, they dealt in gold and silver. Kept it locked up tight down there in the vaults. That place is tighter than Fort Knox and practically impenetrable. The boss turned it into a casino."

"Mendoza?" Sam questioned.

"Mm-hmm. It's the hottest ticket in town. But you have to have connections to get in. The boss keeps a tight reign on security for both the casino and The Vault. Why do you think the cops have never raided the place? They have no idea it's there."

"So The Vault is really a cover for this illegal gambling operation," Frank mused.

"That and money laundering. You know from the other _businesses_ the boss has."

"So how does Ryan fit into all this? Aside from running The Vault?"

Rick's face clouded over with anger and betrayal. Finishing off his second hamburger, he wiped his hands on a napkin and sat back, his friendly demeanor turning dark.

"Like I said, I took over running the casino and Ryan took over my position as manager of The Vault. The casino stayed open later than the club, so when Ryan was done, he'd come down and hang out with me for a while. Pretty soon, he started gambling. Not much at first, just a little black jack, some roulette. Nothing major. He won some and he lost some. But then he started playing more than hanging out. And he started losing – big time. One night I confronted him about how much he owed." Rick shook his head at the memory. "I still can't believe he let it get so out of hand. He was in the hole over seventy-five grand. He got paid well. We all did. But no way could he pay back that kind of money. And he knew it."

"So what happened?" Sam asked. "He's still there so he must have found some way to pay it back."

"Oh, yeah, he did," Rick said bitterly. "He stole it. From The Vault."

"He stole from the mob?" Frank repeated in disbelief. "And lived to tell about it?"

"When you set up your best friend to take the fall, it's easy to live another day," Rick told them angrily. "I thought I was helping him out, so I covered up his debt. He told me he could get his hands on the money but it would take a few days. So, I kept it hidden from the boss. Easy enough to do for a couple of days. And good as his word, Ryan had the money before the week was out."

"The following week when I came in to work your two buddies from the alley took me for a little ride. Seems Ryan set it up to look like _**I**_ was the one who owed the money and that I stole it from the safe in his office to repay it. They decided not to kill me but to make an example of me. Wanted everyone else in town to know what would happen if they crossed Mendoza. I was in the hospital for a month and spent another three months in rehab. The limp is permanent. And so is the rep." Rick shook his head in disgust. "I can't get a legitimate job with my record and no organization large or small will hire me. Not with a reputation for stealing from the mob."

Sam and Frank sat in stunned silence at this new wealth of information, though neither one could quite understand out how it figured in to the current situation. Before they had a chance to voice those thoughts, Rick provided the answer.

"Thing is, once you get yourself in that kind of trouble and get yourself out of it, even if you have to sacrifice your best friend to do it, well, you'd think you'd learn right?" Ryan asked hypothetically.

"He didn't?" Frank said, incredulous.

"I guess gambling really is like a drug for some people. And he really must be under the influence of it. Word on the street is he's into Mendoza for a hundred grand this time. Supposedly, he went out of town to borrow the money from a relative. The casino manager gave him 'til the end of the month to pay up or he's going straight to Mendoza."

"Well," Sam sat back, looking at Frank, "things suddenly became a whole lot clearer."


	18. Chapter 18

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 18**

Joe stared at the face of the man who was trying so hard to kill the woman he loved. Sam and Frank had returned to Bayport late the previous night and briefed Joe and Fenton on the ride home from the airport. They had decided to meet early in the morning to pool all information they had gathered up to that point and see exactly what they could take to Ezra Collig.

Studying the police photo of Ryan Bender that Sam had procured, Joe noted the wavy, dark blonde hair and hard blue eyes. He couldn't help feeling as if he had seen the face before, even though he still had no memory of the night Vanessa had been attacked other than bits and pieces of floating memories – or hallucinations. Placing it in the center of the table, Joe listened as his father determined their next move.

"We can't come out and tell Collig we know for sure that Ryan is here in Bayport since that information was gathered by less than legal means," Fenton surmised. "We also can't use what you were able to copy off his computer," he continued glancing at Frank. "But everything you got from the landlord, the employees at The Vault and Rick Moreno is fair game. And I think that's more than enough for him to agree that Ryan Bender should be considered a suspect."

Frank leaned back in the chair and breathed a sigh of relief, happy that the police would finally have someone else to focus on besides Joe.

"Sam and I will go talk to Collig. In the meantime, Frank, I want you to take this picture of Ryan and go back to Joe's apartment building. Show it to Mr. Doyle and anyone else you can find. See if anyone recognizes him," Fenton concluded standing up. "Stop by Prito's too, and see if that delivery boy can identify him."

Knowing Joe was about to protest being left out once again, Frank put a pre-emptive hand on his arm in a request for him to remain silent. Not knowing what Frank had in mind, but trusting his brother implicitly, Joe sat back and quietly nodded his agreement. As soon as he was sure Fenton and Sam had left the office, Joe turned to Frank.

"Even if I can't help you, don't think for one second I'm going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you're questioning all my neighbors," Joe said with determination.

"I wouldn't dare," Frank replied. "Dad told me your apartment is no longer considered a crime scene. So if you were to go back there today to get some clean clothes, check your answering machine, pick up the mail…" Frank let his voice fade out, smiling conspiratorially.

"What are we waiting for," Joe enthused. "Let's get going!"

oooOOOooo

Joe stood at the door to his apartment, keys in hand. As he reached out to unlock the door, he realized that, other than the five minutes he'd spent here the day of his release from jail, this was the first time he'd be returning since Vanessa had been attacked. And that day he had purposely bypassed the kitchen and headed straight for the bedroom. Not sure what kinds of memories would come flooding back when he stepped inside, he hesitated.

"Joe," Frank asked gently, "Are you all right?"

Frank had checked with Fenton to make sure the kitchen had been thoroughly cleaned ensuring Joe wouldn't be confronted with the sight of Vanessa's blood on the floor. Still, he wasn't quite sure how to convey this information to Joe without upsetting him.

"Yeah, fine," Joe replied a little tentatively. "You're coming in with me, right?" He threw his brother a pleading look.

"Sure, of course. Just let me know if you want me to leave," Frank assured him.

Nodding, Joe inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. Stepping inside, he paused and looked around, relieved at the absence of flashbacks.

'_So far, so good,'_ Joe thought taking a few steps. Looking around he noticed the apartment was spotless and made a mental note to thank his father when he got home.

With Frank just a few steps behind him, Joe gained confidence and walked purposefully towards the kitchen and the flashing red light on the answering machine. Reaching out to press the playback button, Joe caught a glimpse of the butcher block – and the knives it contained – sitting on the counter next to the stove, and his hand stopped in mid-air.

As Joe stared at the knives, mesmerized, a sudden feeling of paranoia reached up from somewhere deep in his soul and wrapped itself around him. His breathing started coming in short, quick gasps. He heard a glass shatter as a piercing scream resonated in his ears. A hand flashed before his eyes, holding a knife covered in blood. And Joe couldn't help but feel someone was watching him. Watching…waiting…laughing…

"Joe?" Frank called out to his brother, getting no response. Noting the rapid change in Joe's breathing and the panicked look in his eyes, Frank realized immediately what was happening. "Joe! JOE, LOOK AT ME!" Frank yelled, grabbing Joe by the shoulders and shaking him forcefully.

"NO!" Joe cried out. Breaking free, he scurried to the corner of the kitchen where he'd been found the night Vanessa was attacked. With his back to the cabinets, Joe crouched on the floor and looked frantically about the room, caught in a vivid flashback. "No, you won't get me!" he cried out, raising his hand as if holding knife ready to strike.

Shocked, Frank could only stare as his younger sibling fled from demons only he could see. Quickly regaining his composure, Frank cursed Ryan Bender, swearing he would pay, as he slowly and quietly approached his frightened brother.

"Joe, it's me. Frank. It's okay. Everything is okay." With each word, Frank took one more baby step forward until he was crouching on the floor in front of Joe. "Joe, can you hear me?" he asked, now eye to eye with his brother.

After another frantic visual sweep of the room, Joe finally locked in on Frank, staring at him. Slowly, his breathing became less labored, and the glazed look in his eyes disappeared, only to be replaced by confusion – and fear.

"What…what just happened?" he asked nervously.

"You had a flashback," Frank said gently, offering his hand and pulling Joe to his feet. "Do you remember it at all?"

"N-no," Joe replied, still a little shaken. Looking around the kitchen, a shiver ran down his spine. "I need to get out of here," he whispered. "Out of this room."

"Let's go," Frank wrapped an arm around Joe's shoulder and led him down the hall to the bedroom, seeing Joe visibly relax the further they got from the kitchen. "Better?" he asked once they stepped into the bedroom.

"Better," Joe nodded in confirmation as he sat on the edge of the bed. Looking up, he saw the concern in Frank's eyes. "I'm fine now. Really. Go ahead and talk to whoever you have to talk to. I'll be right here when you're done," Joe smiled, his hand unconsciously reaching out to grab Vanessa's pillow. Pulling it back into his lap, he held it tightly, all the while assuring Frank he had no intention of leaving that room until Frank came back for him.

"Okay," Frank responded not entirely convinced. "But if anything happens, if you need me, call." He held up his cell phone as he backed out of the room.

"I will," Joe promised, clutching the pillow to his chest, the heartrending image burned into Frank's mind as he made his way out of the apartment.

oooOOOooo

Walking around the complex, Frank was starting to get a little dejected. He had talked to several of Joe and Vanessa's neighbors and while some of them recalled hearing a woman scream on the night in question, no one recognized Ryan Bender or recalled ever seeing him around. Making his way back to the front of the building, Frank noticed a man in his early thirties unloading a van that was parked several spaces away from where Joe normally parked, directly under the balcony of his apartment.

As he approached the van, Frank could see the gentleman was removing a suitcase and overnight bag from the back of the van.

"Hi," Frank smiled as the man looked up at him.

"Hi, how ya doin'?" he replied amiably.

"Frank Hardy," Frank introduced himself extending his hand in greeting.

"Jack Gilboy," the man returned the greeting. "You're Joe's brother, right?"

"Yes, I am."

"Nice guy, your brother. He's saved me a bundle at the mechanic's, I'll tell ya. A whiz with cars."

"Yeah, he can pretty much fix anything with a motor," Frank agreed. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Not at all. What about?"

"Were you home three nights ago? Around six thirty, seven o'clock?" Frank asked.

Jack frowned in concentration before answering. "Yeah, we were still here." He shook his head with a rueful smile. "Wanted to get an early start on our mini-vacation, but you know how women are. Between my wife and the kids our early start turned into three hours late!"

Frank laughed agreeably, before launching into his next question. "Did you see or hear anything unusual that night?"

"Hmm…no I don't think…wait a minute. Yeah, that was the night I saw Joe climbing down the balcony."

"Climbing DOWN the balcony?" Frank repeated, his antennae going up, as he suddenly recalled Con's comment about the sliding glass door being open. True, Joe and Vanessa always left it open in warm weather, but that afforded the perfect getaway for someone wanting to leave the apartment without using the door.

"Yup, down. I waved to him, even yelled, but I guess he didn't hear me. Never even turned around. Just climbed down the balcony and walked down the street." Jack pointed in the direction the fleeing figure had gone. "Then again, the kids had the CD player turned up and they were arguing about what songs they wanted to hear, so like I said, he probably didn't even hear me."

"Why would he climb _down_ the balcony? Why not just use the front door?" Frank mused.

"Beats me," Jack shrugged, shutting the hatch on the rear of the van and picking up the suitcases. "Like I said, your brother is a nice guy and all but he does some pretty crazy things."

"Did you see this man around at all that night? Or at any other time that you can recall?" Frank asked holding out the picture of Ryan.

Jack scrutinized it carefully before shaking his head. "Nope. Never seen him."

"Are you sure? Is it possible this is the man you saw climbing down the balcony?" Frank questioned, keeping his voice neutral.

Taking another long look, Jack sighed. "You know, since he didn't turn around, I never really got a good look at his face. I just assumed it was Joe, ya know? I mean who else would it be? But I guess it could just as easily have been him."

"One more question?" Frank asked hopefully.

"Shoot."

"What was this guy wearing when you saw him climbing down the balcony?"

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, deep in thought for a moment. "Black jeans, a black jacket and a baseball cap." He opened his eyes and grinned at Frank. "Pretty good memory, huh?" he congratulated himself.

"Very good memory," Frank agreed. "Thanks for your help, Jack."

"Anytime," Jack called out as he made his way towards the back entrance of the building. "And tell Joe I said hello."


	19. Chapter 19

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 19**

After leaving Joe's apartment building, Frank had called _Prito's_ to see if Davis Rennig was working. Tony had told Frank it was Davis' day off but provided him with the delivery boy's address and phone number. Calling ahead, Frank made arrangements to stop by and show Ryan's picture to Davis in the hopes that he might be able to place Ryan at the apartment building the night Vanessa was attacked.

"You stay in the car. This'll only take a minute and I don't want you scaring him again," Frank admonished Joe.

"Weenie," Joe muttered under his breath.

Halfway out of the car, Frank turned and frowned at his brother. "If you'll remember, you _did_ have the guy running for his life the last time you met. Just let me handle it, okay?"

Joe simply grunted in response, turning to look out the open window at the children playing in the street.

Sighing, Frank emerged from the car and made his way to the front door of the house, and knocked. A moment later a portly middle-aged woman, with light brown hair and pale blue eyes opened the door, smiling tiredly at him.

"Hello, I'm Frank Hardy," Frank introduced himself. "I called earlier. Is Davis in?"

"Oh, yes," the woman replied. "I'm Grace Rennig, Davis' mother. Please come in." She stepped aside allowing Frank entrance to the foyer. "Davis! Frank Hardy is here!" she called up the stairs, and then turned back to Frank. "He'll be down in a moment. Excuse me." With another tired smile, she disappeared down a hall towards the back of the house, which echoed with the sounds of squealing children.

Seconds later, Davis came pounding down the stairs, coming to an abrupt stop at the bottom. Gazing around warily, Davis fixed Frank with a nervous look. "Your brother isn't here, is he?"

"He's waiting in the car," Frank smiled. "Can you take a look at this picture and tell me if this was the man you held the door open for at Joe's apartment building?"

Taking the picture and holding it close to his face, Davis studied it for several minutes. "I'm not absolutely certain, but it looks an awful lot like him," he replied handing the photo back to Frank. "He never actually looked at me, eye to eye, but I did get a glimpse of his face. This could definitely be him."

"Would you mind if the police contacted you just to verify that?" Frank asked excitedly.

"No, not at all," Davis replied, looking down at the floor for a second, before returning his gaze to Frank. "I really am sorry about letting that guy in the building. Especially if it turns out he really did hurt your brother's girlfriend."

"It's not your fault," Frank reassured him. "If you hadn't held the door for him, the next person would have.

"Thank you," Davis replied, opening the door for Frank and standing in the doorway. Seeing Joe seated in Frank's car parked in the street he jokingly added, "Think you could convince your brother of that too?"

Laughing, Frank waved goodbye and headed back to the car.

"Well?" Joe demanded before Frank even had the door shut.

"A definite maybe," Frank replied, tossing the photo of Ryan in the backseat. "He never got a good look at the guys face," Frank continued, checking the rearview and side mirrors and making sure all the children had moved to safer ground before pulling away, "but he did see him from the side and he said Ryan is a pretty good match. Let's head back to the office and call Dad. Hopefully he and Sam are still at the station and they can tell Collig about this new information."

Turning to look at Joe, who was lost in a moody silence, he tapped his brother on the shoulder. "Hey, this is all good news. Collig has to admit there was someone else in your apartment that night. Someone who got into the building without letting his presence be known ahead of time. Someone who _climbed down the balcony_ to get out, so it would look like you and Vanessa were all alone and locked up nice and tight."

Joe smiled sadly at Frank's encouraging words. "It may help prove I was set up, but it could still turn out that I'm the one who stabbed Vanessa."

"You _didn't_!" Frank snapped. "I know you, Joe, and it's simply not possible. No way," he finished adamantly.

Hearing the determined belief in his brother's voice, Joe wondered if maybe Frank was right. _'He's got an awful lot of faith in me,'_ Joe thought, feeling encouraged. _'Maybe I should have a little more faith in myself.'_

Arriving back at the office, Frank immediately placed a call to his father. Before Frank had a chance to bring him up to date on the latest information, Fenton asked that Frank put him on speaker phone saying Collig had just informed him of the results of the DNA tests run on both Joe and Vanessa.

"Okay, Dad, we're both here," Frank said sitting back in his desk chair, with Joe seated opposite him.

"As expected, some of the DNA under Vanessa's nails were a match for Joe, and some of the DNA under his nails was a match for Vanessa. Collig agrees that doesn't prove a whole lot since they live together. However, forensics found another DNA sample, found on both Joe _and_ Vanessa, under their nails, which cannot be identified," Fenton related, a touch of excitement in his voice.

"So they were both in contact with the same, unidentified person that night." Frank's eyes lit up as he looked at his brother.

"Exactly," Fenton concurred.

"When you put that together with what we found out this morning, it pretty much guarantees there was someone else in the apartment that night!" Frank exclaimed, and proceeded to relate what he'd found out from Jack Gilboy and Davis Rennig.

Asking Frank to hold on so he could confer with Chief Collig, Fenton's muffled voice could be heard in a rushed conversation with someone. Coming back on the line, Fenton relayed news that left the brother's cautiously optimistic.

"Based on the DNA findings and what you were able to find out this morning, Collig is sending a forensics team back to Joe and Vanessa's apartment ASAP. They're going to scour every room, especially the bedroom closet where Joe's gym bag was found. Those drugs had to be planted. Hopefully whoever planted them accidentally left some DNA evidence behind that can be matched to what was found on Joe and Vanessa." Frank could almost hear the smile in his father's voice.

"It won't be long now," Frank grinned at his brother. "I can feel it. Before we know it, all the charges against Joe will be dropped." Ending the conversation, Frank immediately dialed another number as Joe watched.

"Who're you calling now?" Joe asked curiously.

Frank answered with a mysterious smile, waiting for someone to answer the ringing phone. "Con? It's Frank. Yeah, I just got off the phone with Dad. Finally, we're getting somewhere. Listen, I need a favor…"

As Joe listened with rapt attention, Frank told Con about the hair sample he had retrieved from Ryan Bender's apartment. Acknowledging that particular piece of evidence would not hold up in court based on the way it was obtained, Frank nonetheless asked if he could drop it off for DNA testing. After listening to Con's expected objections and dire predictions of what would happen should Chief Collig find out, Frank patiently explained why he was asking.

If the hair sample matched the unknown DNA found on Joe and Vanessa, at least they would know for sure Ryan Bender had been the one in their apartment that night and they could search for him to the exclusion of anyone else, knowing they had the right suspect. Sighing heavily and muttering about losing his job and pension, Con finally relented.

Promising to be at the station in thirty minutes, Frank left Joe with a job of his own to do – call Andrea and see if she recognized the attorney whose name Frank had found on Ryan's computer. Frank knew there had to be a reason why Ryan had kept the information, although he wasn't certain what it could be.

Happy for the chance to check on Vanessa, Joe quickly dialed Andrea's cell phone, knowing something was wrong the second she answered the phone.

"Andrea? What's wrong? Is it Vanessa?" Joe asked anxiously.

"No, she's fine but…he came back," Andrea replied nervously.

"He?" Joe asked. _'Ryan!'_

"The man who tried to suffocate her the other night," Andrea said, her voice shaking.

"Did the police officer Dad hired catch him?" Joe asked hopefully.

"No. The guy realized something was up before he really got close to the room and he took off."

"Did you see him?"

"No. I wish I had, but then again the last time I saw Ryan he was six years old. I'd never recognize him now," she said sadly. "I can't believe he'd do this! Vanessa is his cousin!"

"Well, at least we know Vanessa is safe now," Joe sighed, wishing he could be there to watch over Vanessa himself. "Listen, Andrea, I need to ask you something. Frank found the name of a Bayport attorney on Ryan's computer but we don't know how it figures into everything. I wanted to see if you might recognize it."

"Sure, who is it?"

"Nathan Gunderson."

"Nathan? He's my attorney. He looks over all my business contracts, drew up my will… mine and Vanessa's," Andrea replied, surprised. "You don't think he has anything to do with Ryan do you?"

"No," Joe said absently, his mind spinning. "He drew up Vanessa's will?"

"Yes, both of ours. What do you think it means?"

"I have to check something out before I can answer that," Joe mused. "I'll call you back as soon as I know."

"Okay, but listen I was just about to call you anyway. The doctor finally gave me some good news."

"Really?" Joe perked up.

"Vanessa is showing signs of regaining consciousness. He thinks she'll wake up before the day is out," Andrea told him happily.

"Thank, God." Joe said quietly. "Andrea, when she does, could you tell her…"

"I'll tell her you love her and you'll be here to see her as soon as you can," Andrea promised.

"Thanks, Andrea. Bye."

Joe hung up and let out a huge sigh of relief, finally allowing himself to believe Vanessa would be all right. With renewed purpose, Joe telephoned Nathan Gunderson's office, speaking with his personal secretary. By the time Frank returned, Joe had the answer they needed and another piece of the puzzle fell into place. After giving Frank the good news about Vanessa, Joe related what he had learned.

"Gunderson keeps all his clients documents on computer AND keeps hard copies in a warehouse. He once had a computer crash at a time when an important client needed a copy of a contract immediately and he couldn't produce it. Ever since then he keeps a hard copy of everything stored in that warehouse just in case," Joe explained.

"Okay, how does that fit in with Ryan going after Vanessa?"

"Seems the warehouse was broken into several days ago. Nothing was taken but the file cabinet with all the documents for clients whose last names begin with "B" had the lock broken. They did an inventory and couldn't find anything missing but one file seemed to have been disturbed, as if someone was looking through it," Joe continued with a grim smile.

"Let me guess. Vanessa's file," Frank responded.

"Yup. Whoever broke in was very interested in her will."

"So that's how Ryan found out who her primary beneficiary was," Frank mulled over this new information. "And you said he was seen at the hospital today, but got away before he could be apprehended?"

"Mm-hmm," Joe nodded.

"I don't like this," Frank announced somberly.

"Neither do I," Joe agreed.

"No, I mean Vanessa hasn't really regained consciousness yet. Ryan probably knows that, all he'd have to do is call pretending he's a friend and ask about her condition. Yet it's obvious security knows who he is now," Frank stated worriedly.

"Yeah, so?" Joe remarked, not quite following Frank's train of thought.

"He's no longer anonymous. Assuming that he has no idea Sam and I went down to Florida to check him out, he probably came to what seems to be the only logical conclusion."

"Spit it out, Frank. I'm not following you," Joe pressed, starting to get annoyed.

"He probably thinks you're starting to remember what happened that night, and that you can identify him," Frank explained, sounding increasingly concerned. "Which means you're now a target."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: The flu sucks the big one. Your reviews make me smile. I think that about covers it. :-)

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 20**

Joe looked at Frank thoughtfully, considering his theory, and finally shrugged his shoulders. "Wouldn't be the first time," he said nonplussed.

"But that means you're in just as much danger as Vanessa," Frank said gravely.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Other than the past hour or so, I haven't been alone since I got out of jail. You, Dad, Biff…someone's always with me. I doubt he'll come after me if I'm not alone," Joe replied, with seeming indifference.

"You don't seem to be taking this very seriously," Frank said, rather irritated at Joe's cavalier attitude.

Leaning back, Joe ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know you're concerned about me, Frank, and I appreciate it. But I'm concerned about Vanessa. The doctor said she's showing signs of regaining consciousness. She's going to wake up – probably today – and I won't be there," he said, distressed. "Thanks to that damn restraining order, God knows when I'll get to see her."

Seeing how upset Joe was that Vanessa would awaken and he wouldn't be there to comfort her, Frank realized this was one situation that could be remedied rather quickly – if he could get everyone to agree.

"Maybe sooner than you think," Frank murmured.

"What do you have in mind?" Joe asked hopefully.

Getting up, Frank began pacing in front of his desk as his mind whirled, putting things in order.

"You can't see Vanessa because of the restraining order, which is in place because the judge believes you stabbed her and could still be a threat to her. You admitted you couldn't remember anything from that night, which doesn't help your case. The only person who does know what happened that night – besides Ryan – is Vanessa, who hasn't been able to tell us anything…" Frank stopped and turned to his brother with a smile. "…until now."

"Okaaay," Joe drawled, trying to follow Frank's trail of logic.

"The doctor said Vanessa should wake up at some point today. And when she does, she'll be able to tell us what happened, clear you of any wrongdoing and get the restraining order lifted," Frank beamed. "With any luck, you'll be able to see her tonight!"

Joe stared, unsure of what to say. It all seemed just a little too easy and he didn't want to get his hopes up only to have them crushed.

"Won't her doctor have to agree? Won't Collig have to be there? And Andrew? What if Andrea doesn't want her under that kind of pressure the second she wakes up?" Joe threw up all kinds of dire possibilities.

"I didn't say it would be easy," Frank responded, settling back into the chair behind his desk. Reaching for the phone, he hoped his considerable powers of persuasion wouldn't fail him.

oooOOOooo

It had taken several hours, a few bruised feelings and a confrontation with Ezra Collig, but as promised, Frank finally got everyone to agree to his plan. As he stood next to the bed, holding Vanessa's hand, Frank hoped that before the day was out Joe would be standing in this very spot.

His father stood next to him with Laura and Andrea on the opposite side and Chief Collig, Con Riley and Andrew Worth at the foot of the bed. Vanessa had finally awakened late that afternoon, although she had only been able to stay awake for a minute or two. Andrea said that Vanessa had recognized both she and Laura. With considerable effort, she had slowly looked around the room, and asked for Joe before succumbing to sleep once more. By the time everyone had assembled in her room, Vanessa was beginning to stir again.

"Van, I know you're tired but can you talk to us? Just for a minute?" Frank asked in a gentle voice.

With great exertion, she slowly opened her eyes. Looking at the faces around her she finally found Frank's warm brown eyes and focused on him.

"Do you remember what happened, Van?" he asked, gently stroking her hand.

She nodded and winced as even that small movement obviously caused her great pain.

"Did you see who attacked you?" he continued as gently as he could.

Nodding again, a few tears slid down her cheeks.

Frank held up the picture of Ryan so Vanessa could see it. "Is this the man who stabbed you?" Frank questioned, praying for an affirmative response.

Vanessa seemed to gaze at the picture momentarily with no spark of recognition before slowly closing her eyes.

"Who hurt you, Van?" Frank asked anxiously. "Can you tell us who it was?"

Vanessa moved her head again, but it was so slight that Frank wasn't sure if she was responding affirmatively or negatively.

"Vanessa, please, if you know who stabbed you, please tell us," Frank practically begged her.

She glanced around the room once more, a hint of fear in her eyes, before giving in to her body's demand for sleep. Her eyes slid shut as Vanessa uttered one word.

"_Joe_…"


	21. Chapter 21

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 21**

Out in the hallway, Frank leaned against the wall, stunned. He'd been so sure Joe hadn't been the one to stab Vanessa that he would have bet his life on it. He _had_ bet Joe's sanity on it. While they had all finally been in agreement that Joe was set up and forcibly injected with LSD, it now seemed he really had stabbed Vanessa while under the influence of the powerful hallucinogenic drug.

'_How could I have miscalculated so badly? How am I going to tell him? He'll never get over it,'_ Frank thought despairingly.

Seeing the look of devastation on his father's face, Frank wished the ground would open up and swallow him. He'd been the one who insisted that Vanessa be questioned immediately, absolutely certain she would clear Joe.

"Dad, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I was so sure…" his voice trailed off helplessly.

"We were all sure," Fenton said despondent.

"Don't worry, that I.D. will never make it to court," Andrew said forcefully, holding up a hand and ticking off the points on his fingers one by one. "She has a skull fracture, concussion, swelling of the brain, not to mention being shot full of pain medication. There's no way to know if she was responding to your question and identifying Joe as her assailant or simply calling out his name."

Frank felt a glimmer of hope inside.

'_That's gotta be it! She was just asking for Joe. Wondering where he was, why he wasn't there. He couldn't have done it. He doesn't have it in him. I know he couldn't hurt her no matter what,'_ Frank thought, allowing himself a small measure of relief.

The relief quickly vanished when Frank felt his cell phone start to vibrate, as it had done three times while they were in Vanessa's room. Reaching into his pocket, Frank pulled it out slowly, letting the voice mail pick it up. Waiting a moment, Frank finally checked the messages, his heart sinking. All four were from Joe, the anxiety in his voice unmistakable, demanding to know what Vanessa had said.

"It's Joe," Frank said to Fenton, anguished. "Dad, what am I going to tell him? I finally had him believing he didn't do it. No matter how hard I try to convince him otherwise, he'll be absolutely certain he was the one who stabbed her. You know him – he'll never believe she was just asking for him."

For the first time in his life, Fenton had no words of advice to offer his son. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, Frank turned and slowly made his way out of the hospital.

oooOOOooo

Pacing back and forth in front of the large picture window of his parent's house, Joe kept his eyes glued to the street, impatiently waiting for his brother's arrival. He'd left four messages for Frank. The simple fact that Frank hadn't returned any of them yet was not a good sign. Joe grew more restless with each passing minute.

'_Why hasn't he called? Didn't she wake up? Did something go wrong?'_ Just as he was about to reach for the phone and call Frank for the fifth time, Joe saw his brother's car pull slowly into the driveway. Not bothering to wait, Joe flew out of the house and was pulling Frank's door open in seconds.

"What happened? Why didn't you return my calls? What did she say?" Joe asked the questions at lightning speed.

Looking up, Frank saw the apprehension in his brother's eyes and his heart tied itself in knots. _'I can't do this! It'll kill him!'_

"What?! What is it?!" Joe cried out. When Frank didn't respond, Joe grabbed his arm yanking him out of the car. "Tell me what she said!" Joe bellowed, now shaking, his face only inches from Frank's.

"Inside," Frank said quietly, removing his arm from Joe's grasp and leading him back into the house.

Once inside, Joe faced his brother. Wrapping both arms around himself he stood, pale and trembling. "I did it, didn't I?" he whispered.

"Joe…"

"Just tell me what she said," Joe begged.

Seeing his brother so close to unraveling completely, Frank was incensed with himself. _'Why?! Why did I insist she be questioned immediately?! Why couldn't I wait – just one more day?'_

"Joe, listen. She was really disoriented. I'm sure she didn't even know what she was saying." Frank reached out in an attempt to comfort his younger brother.

Refusing consolation, Joe took a step back and pleaded with Frank for the truth. "Did she see you? Acknowledge that you were there?"

"Yes," Frank replied.

"Did she recognize you?"

"She seemed to," Frank answered honestly.

Joe took a deep breath appearing as if he were in actual physical pain. "Did you ask her who stabbed her?"

Frank nodded, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

"And what did she say? Who stabbed her, Frank?" Joe asked one last time.

Frank took a deep breath and swallowed hard, forcing the words from his throat. "She said you did."


	22. Chapter 22

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 22**

Joe let out an anguished cry and crumpled onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

"Joe, listen to me." Frank sat on the couch next to Joe. "She has a concussion. She's disoriented. They've got her on all kinds of painkillers. She probably doesn't even know it was me let alone what I said. For all we know, she was just calling out your name. We don't know for sure _what_ she was trying to say."

Listening to his brother sob inconsolably, Frank wasn't even sure Joe realized he was in the room, let alone heard what he'd said.

'_Damn you!'_ Frank cursed himself. _'You just had to ask her! You couldn't leave well enough alone!'_

"Joe?" Frank nudged him. "We don't know that it was you. There's no real proof…"

"Proof?!" Joe yelled, sitting up so quickly Frank jumped. "She told you _**I**_ was the one who stabbed her! In front of a room full of people! How much more _proof_ do you need?!"

Something tugged at Frank's heart as he stared at Joe's tearstained face. Seeing that Joe was visibly shaking, Frank feared he was on the verge of completely losing control. Trying to soothe his distraught brother, Frank didn't realize his well-intentioned efforts would have the opposite effect.

"Joe, please try and calm down…"

"_CALM DOWN_?!" Joe screamed at him. "How would you feel if Callie suddenly announced to your family and the police that you tried to kill her? And you had no memory of it? How calm would you be?!"

'_God, why didn't I just keep my mouth shut?!'_ Frank thought as Joe sprang up from the couch and began a frenzied pacing back and forth in front of the window.

"I did it, Frank. I stabbed her. And you proved it. And you want to know the worst part?" Joe demanded as he stopped and stared at Frank, a mixture of grief and anger reflected in his eyes. "She's still in danger! Ryan wants her dead and there's nothing I can do to stop him! I can't even get near her! Not that I should since I'm as much of a threat to her as he is!"

In the midst of Joe's increasingly incoherent rambling, something clicked for Frank. "You're right," he agreed.

"Wh-what?" Joe stopped and stared, wondering if he'd heard correctly. Did Frank really think he was a threat to Vanessa?

"Vanessa is still in danger. Ryan is still a threat to her. And if you love her, you'll stop feeling sorry for yourself and do whatever you can to protect her." Frank mentally crossed his fingers hoping his primitive attempt at reverse psychology would work.

"What do you mean _IF_ I love her?" Joe responded angrily. "Of course I love her!"

"I know that," Frank smiled gently, getting up and walking over to stand in front of Joe. "We need to get Ryan behind bars so Vanessa is safe. And to do that, we need to work together. Right, partner?" Frank tentatively extended his hand to Joe.

Joe drew in a shuddering breath and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Looking at Frank's outstretched hand, he allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. "Right, partner." He took Frank's hand in his and gripped it hard. "Sorry. I didn't mean to go off the deep end. It's just…"

"Joe, it was stupid of me to insist Vanessa be questioned the second she regained consciousness. I'm sorry. Just promise me you won't take what she said to heart. At this point, there's really no telling what she meant when she said your name. Don't you think it's reasonable that she would have expected to see you there in the room when she woke up? And when you weren't there she asked for you?"

Joe looked at him warily, considering his words.

"Don't you think it's the least bit possible?" Frank prompted.

"I guess," Joe finally agreed with a heavy sigh.

"No matter what Vanessa said, I still don't believe for one second you could ever hurt her," Frank told Joe, trying to shore up his confidence.

"I hope not," Joe mumbled, before returning to Frank's original subject. "So do you have any ideas on how to catch Ryan? So far all we know is that he's somewhere in Bayport."

"Well, I've been thinking about that. His name doesn't come up at any of the hotels in town so we can assume wherever he is, he's using an alias. Since he flew here, he must have-" Frank stopped and grinned, as Joe rolled his eyes at Frank's ringing cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Frank, it's Con."

"Hi, Con. What's up?"

"Can you come down to the station? I have some information for you."

"Sure. I'll be right there." Frank quickly disconnected the call, looking at Joe excitedly. "Con said he's got something for me."

"Great! Let's go!" Joe replied heading for the door.

"Whoa, little brother. You're not supposed to be anywhere near this investigation, remember?" Frank reminded him.

"Oh, come on, Frank! I'm always down at the station. No one would think twice about seeing me there," Joe whined.

"Humor me," Frank requested. "Stay here and see what you can come up with to trap Ryan. I promise I'll go to the station and come right back."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Joe stared at his older brother, pouting.

Reminding himself it was for Joe's own good, Frank vowed not to let Joe get the best of him this time. Mimicking Joe's body language Frank stared steadily back at him until Joe threw up his hands in surrender.

"Fine! I'll wait here! But I don't have to be happy about it!" Joe complained.

"No, you don't." Frank patted him on the shoulder as he walked past on his way out the door. "See you in a little while."

Taking a seat on the couch, Joe tried to focus on Ryan, but found his thoughts continually wandered back to Vanessa and her response to Frank. Had he really been the one wielding the knife? Or had Vanessa simply been questioning his absence as Frank so firmly believed.

'_What does it matter?'_ Joe thought dejectedly. _'Even if Ryan stabbed her, it just means I couldn't protect her. Couldn't keep her safe. In our own home!'_

"I'm sorry, Van," Joe whispered into the empty room. "I'm sorry for all the times you were in danger – all the times you got hurt – because of me."

Unable to keep the thoughts at bay, Joe recalled the times Vanessa had been put in harm's way by criminals, including the Assassins, simply to get back at him or "encourage" him to do what they wanted. Sure, Joe had always been able to rescue her in time and bring her home safely. But wouldn't his luck run out one day? Wouldn't there come a day when he couldn't get to her in time? When she'd be seriously injured? Or killed?

Leaning forward, Joe dropped his head in his hands as he came to a painful realization. One day the odds would catch up with him. One day, his best efforts would be in vain. With a clarity he wished he didn't have, Joe admitted to himself that no matter how hard he tried, Vanessa would never be truly safe with him.

The tightness in his chest grew as he realized the engagement ring in his safe deposit box, the hotel reservations he had for Vanessa's birthday, and the elaborate plans he'd made to propose and recreate her biggest fantasy in the process would have to be abandoned. Thinking of the painful recovery Vanessa had ahead of her, Joe vowed she would never have to go through that again. She would never be hurt again, because of him.

'_I promised to protect her. To keep her safe. Always.'_ Sitting back, Joe stared at the ceiling as tears blurred his vision, knowing there was only one way he could keep that promise.

Admitting to himself that Vanessa would be safer without him in her life, Joe vowed that as soon as she was recovered he would do the only thing he could to be certain she was no longer in jeopardy. As soon as Vanessa was past this latest nightmare, he would make sure it was her last one. Knowing it was the hardest decision he'd ever made, despite being made out of love, Joe decided the only way he could ensure Vanessa's safety was to walk out of her life for good.


	23. Chapter 23

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 23**

Frank checked his watch wondering why Con had asked him to come to the station as soon as possible and then left him cooling his heels in the office. Standing he began to pace restlessly, still unnerved at what Vanessa had revealed. Worried about leaving Joe alone so soon after getting the bad news, he was just about to leave Con a note and return to the Hardy home when the office door opened and Con strode in, a manila folder in his hand.

"Sorry. The forensics team just got back," Con said taking a seat behind his desk as Frank returned to the chair he had vacated moments before.

"Did they find anything?" Frank asked, hoping for good news.

"They found a hair in the closet where Joe's gym bag was. So far all they know is that it _doesn't_ belong to Joe or Vanessa," Con smiled encouragingly.

Frank pursed his lips in thought. "So it probably belongs to whomever planted the drugs in Joe's bag."

"That's the theory," Con agreed, opening the folder and flipping through several pages. Taking out two sheets of paper, he slid one of them across the desk. "This is the test result on the unknown DNA that was found under Joe and Vanessa's nails." He paused giving Frank a moment to look it over, before sliding the second sheet across. "And this is the result of the DNA test run on the hair samples you took from Ryan Bender's apartment."

Con watched, becoming amused, as Frank scrutinized both reports, once, twice and a third time. Frank finally looked up and broke into a smile.

"They match."

"Exactly."

"At least now we know for sure Ryan is the one we're after." Frank leaned back. "When will the test results be back on the hair sample the forensics team found?"

"They put a rush on it. Hopefully by tomorrow," Con responded.

"Going on the assumption it will match the DNA found on Joe and Vanessa…" Frank began.

"The person it's from will still be unknown as far as the court is concerned," Con warned. "The only reason we know it's Bender is because of the hair sample you took from his hairbrush. Which was obtained illegally."

"I know that, Con," Frank rolled his eyes. "I was going to say, based on what Sam and I learned from Rick Moreno, do you think the judge would issue a search warrant for Ryan's apartment. Then we could get a DNA sample _legally_ and they could issue an arrest warrant for Ryan. Or at least bring him in for questioning."

Con considered Frank's question, unable to come to a firm conclusion one way or another. "Honestly? I don't know. The judge who presided over Joe's bail hearing is pretty conservative and by the book. He may say the evidence against Joe is substantial and the evidence against Ryan is all circumstantial. He may think Joe tried to kill Vanessa and staged it to look as though he were set up just to get the inheritance himself. Plus, if you go back to court, the D.A. may try and enter Vanessa's identification of Joe as her assailant into evidence."

"Andrew said he would block that," Frank said hotly. "He said it would never make it to court. You heard him."

"Just don't get your hopes up, Frank," Con warned. "Personally, I think you'll need something more concrete to get him to see Joe as a victim and Ryan as a suspect."

Having the air taken out of his sails, Frank stood up to leave. "I better get going. I don't want to leave Joe alone too long."

"How'd he take the news?" Con asked cautiously.

"What do you think? He pretty much fell apart," Frank replied dismally, still angry with himself for forcing the issue.

"For what it's worth, I don't think Vanessa even had a clue what you were asking her. I think she was just asking for him."

"If only I could get Joe to believe that." Sighing, Frank gave Con a half-hearted wave as he turned to leave. "Call me as soon as those test results come back."

"Will do," Con replied.

oooOOOooo

Lying on the couch in the living room, Joe stared up at the ceiling. Forcing himself to do what Frank asked and try to come up with a way to get Ryan behind bars, an idea had formed in Joe's mind. He knew Frank would hate it, but he hadn't been able to come up with anything else that would have even the remotest chance of catching Ryan. Hearing Frank's car pull up, Joe sighed knowing it would be a fight to get Frank to agree to his plan.

Joe sat up when Frank came in, making room for him on the couch. Listening intently to what Frank had learned from Con, Joe was at least glad they knew for sure Ryan was the one they were after, even though Joe had been certain of it for quite a while now.

"So what do you say we come up with a way to get him off the street and into a jail cell where he belongs?" Frank suggested.

"Already done," Joe replied, preparing himself for battle.

"Really?" Frank smiled and patted Joe on the back. "That was quick! Let's hear your plan."

"We set a trap to draw him out. Make him think he's outsmarted us."

"Sounds good," Frank agreed. "What to do we use as bait?"

"Me," Joe replied, staring his brother in the eye.

"Excuse me?" Frank said, hoping he had misheard.

"You said yourself I was probably a target now. Assuming I am, what better way to get him out in the open than to let him think he's got a clear shot at me?" Joe patiently explained.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not," Frank vehemently disagreed, shaking his head for emphasis.

"I suppose you have a better idea?" Joe challenged him.

"Give me a little time. I'm sure I'll come up with something," Frank snapped. "Vanessa is already in the hospital because of him-"

"Don't you mean because of me?" Joe corrected.

"No, I mean because of _HIM_! And he is NOT going to put you in the hospital too. Not if I have anything to say about it," Frank said angrily. Getting up he began to pace, causing Joe to wonder if the carpet would make it through the day without getting a hole in it.

"And you _will_ have something to say about it. You'll be following me. Everywhere. So when he does make his move, you'll be right there. I trust you, Frank. I'll be fine." Joe tried to convince his brother he would be in total control of the situation.

"No, Joe! What if something goes wrong? What if I lose you? What if he kills you before I can stop him?!" Frank said, becoming more convinced that Joe's plan was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Who cares if he kills me in the process!" Joe blurted out. "I won't have much of a life once this is over anyway but at least Vanessa will be safe – forever!"

Frank stared at Joe critically. "What exactly do you mean by you won't have much of a life anyway? Vanessa is going to be fine, Joe. Once this is over, you two can get on with your life together."

Joe realized he'd said too much, having decided to keep his decision to break up with Vanessa to himself at least for the time being.

"Nothing," Joe responded trying to brush it aside. "Just listen to me. I've got it all worked out…"

"Uh-uh. I want to know exactly what you meant." Frank crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Joe with a no-nonsense glare. "Now."

Sighing heavily, Joe sank back into the couch, knowing Frank would be relentless until he got the answers he wanted. "How many times has Vanessa been in danger because of me? Because some psycho with a vendetta tried to use her to get to me? How many times has she been hurt?"

"Unfortunately it comes with the territory, Joe," Frank responded. "And she knows that. She made the choice to be with you despite the risks."

"Yeah, well I'm making the choice now. She is never going to be put in danger again because of me," Joe said firmly.

"What are you saying?" Frank asked, suddenly getting a chill.

"As soon as this is over, as soon as she is recovered, I'm breaking up with her." Joe looked at his brother as sadness filled his eyes. "It's the only way I can be sure she'll never be hurt again."


	24. Chapter 24

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 24**

Frank was caught totally off guard, never having expected to hear something like that. Open-mouthed and completely lost for words, Frank simply stared, certain he had to have misheard his brother.

"You…what…what did you just say?" Frank finally found his voice.

"I'm breaking up with Vanessa. It's the only way I'll know she's safe," Joe said stubbornly.

"You cannot be serious." Frank shook his head, still in a mild state of shock.

"Deadly serious," Joe replied.

"She'll never go for it, Joe. She's crazy in love with you. She'll never let you go," Frank said, absolutely certain of himself.

"She'll fall in love with someone else, eventually," Joe responded unable to hide the pain in his voice at the thought of it. "Look, it's for her own good. She's just not safe with me."

"Joe, it isn't about you this time. It's about her and her looney tune cousin. This would have happened whether you were a private investigator or a mechanic or a plumber! Hell, it would have happened even if she'd never even met you! You're being ridiculous!"

"Wanting her to be safe is ridiculous?" Joe repeated angrily.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Frank sighed, wondering where his brother got these ideas from. "Listen, Joe. I know you love her and want her to be safe, but you can't make that kind of unilateral decision for her. You can't run her life."

"It's for her own good! I don't want her to get hurt again – by me or because of me!" Joe cried out.

"_By_ you?" Frank repeated. "You did not hurt her in any way. It was ridiculous of me to think she could ID the person who attacked her the second she regained consciousness. It was a stupid mistake on my part. More than likely, she was just asking for you, Joe, not telling us you stabbed her."

"You don't know that. And if I did it once, I could do it again. I did a little research on LSD. Do you know the flashbacks and hallucinations can last for months? Did you know that if I'm hallucinating and start to get paranoid, like I did that night, I could go after her with a knife _again_? Months from now?!" Joe said, his voice betraying the fear inside him. "I can't take that chance, Frank. I can't live with that hanging over my head. At least if we're not together, I know it can't happen."

Frank studied his brother with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. He obviously went to great lengths to get the facts, even if he did let his overactive imagination distort them way out of proportion. "And you think she'll just sit back and let you dictate who she's supposed to love and how she should live her life? Just try it, little brother," Frank challenged him.

"I know she won't be happy about it at first-"

"Won't be happy about it???" Frank exclaimed incredulous. "I've seen her temper on the rare occasion she wasn't able to control it. She'll give you the fight of your life – and she'll win!"

"No, she won't, because I won't take no for an answer," Joe said stubbornly, knowing Frank was right about Vanessa putting up a fight.

Frank pursed his lips in thought, and then attacked the issue from a different perspective.

"So if she tried to pull something like that with you, that would be okay? You wouldn't care that she was trying to run your life and you got no say in the matter whatsoever." When Joe started to reply several times, only to stop abruptly with each attempt, Frank knew he'd hit a nerve. Joe hated anyone trying to tell him what to do.

"Joe," Frank began a little more gently, "it would be different if you were breaking up with her because you didn't love her anymore. You guys have been together since you were seventeen. She knew a long time ago what you intended to do with your life and that it would be dangerous – for you and her. And she willingly became a part of your life anyway."

Frank stopped for a moment, trying to gauge Joe's reaction to what he was saying. Faced with nothing but silence, he continued.

"And you know that even if you break up with her, it does _not_ mean she'll never be hurt or injured or in danger again in her life. In fact, given what you do for a living, and knowing how protective you are about the people you love, she's probably safer with you than anywhere else on earth." Frank sighed, seeing Joe was still convinced he was right. "Look, at least talk to her about it. Let her have a say in it. After all, it is _her_ life you're talking about."

Joe didn't respond for several minutes and Frank was just about to throw in the towel when he finally spoke. "Fine. I'll talk to her about it."

"Good," Frank smiled with relief.

"On one condition," Joe amended.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Frank mumbled. Taking a seat in the recliner, he leaned forward slightly. "Okay let's hear it."

"We try my plan to catch Ryan. If it doesn't work, you can come up with something else."

"I really hate your plan, you know that, don't you," Frank said sourly.

"Uh-huh. So is it a deal?"

"If Dad agrees to it," Frank replied, certain Fenton would not allow Joe to freely put his own life in danger.

"Fine," Joe said, taking Frank by surprise, gambling that he'd be able to talk Fenton into it just as he did Frank.

"Fine," Frank responded as the two brothers glared at each other, until Frank looked away. "You still haven't told me all the details about your grand plan other than the fact that you're the bait. So let's hear it. Exactly how is it supposed to work."

"Okay," Joe began excitedly, leaving Frank to wonder why Joe always seemed to think putting his life in danger was such an adventure, "when you said I was probably a target now it got me thinking."

"Oh, great, the one time you decide to think and I had to be the catalyst," Frank muttered.

"_IF_ Ryan has wanted to make a move on me, I haven't been very cooperative. I've only been alone twice since all this started and both times I stayed right here in the house. Whenever I've been out, I've always been with someone else, usually you. What I need to do is start going out alone. You know, make myself an easy target."

"Did I mention I don't like this idea?" Frank said sarcastically at Joe's choice of words.

"But, when I _do_ go out, seemingly alone, you'll be watching my back!" Joe grinned, ignoring Frank's comment and getting more enthused the more he discussed his plan. "You can tail my tail."

"And do what? Unless Ryan tries to grab you, he hasn't done anything wrong in the eyes of the law," Frank pointed out.

"I know that, Sherlock," Joe rolled his eyes. "I didn't just fall off the banana boat. You have to _let_ him grab me."

"Why did I know you were going to say that? And once he has you, then what? Should I let him torture you a while? Boil you in oil? A little tarring and feathering maybe, before I move in for the rescue?"

"Preferably not. The idea is for me to get him to confess first. THEN you can save me," Joe finished proudly.

"Uh-huh. So, you're going to do what, say _'Ryan, my brother is right behind us. He should have his ear up to the door by now, so could you make a little confession for us?'_ Something like that?" Frank asked sardonically.

"I'm not an amateur, Frank," Joe shot back. "I think I can goad him into confessing. How many criminal types have been only too happy to brag about their accomplishments when they think their audience will never live to tell anyone about it, huh? Plenty, that's how many."

Frank shook his head, silently admitting Joe was right about that at least.

"So whaddya think?" Joe asked, quite proud of his plan.

"I hate it."

"No, really, what do you think?"

"I really hate it. Something could go wrong, Joe. I could lose you. I could get stuck in traffic. I could… I could…"

"You could swoop in and save the day," Joe grinned. "Come on, Frank. Admit it, you can't come up with anything better. And if my plan had _YOU_ as the bait and me as the rescuer, you'd agree to it in a heartbeat."

Frank studied his brother and sighed. "You still have to convince Dad."

"I will. No problem."

"I still don't like it."

"You've made that abundantly clear. But I trust you, Frank. Completely. Don't worry, nothing will go wrong. "

For some reason, Frank found no comfort in those words.


	25. Chapter 25

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 25**

Fenton Hardy sat perched on the edge of the recliner, Frank having reacquired his seat on the couch next to Joe. He'd been listening to Joe's detailed explanation of his proposed plan, concealing his amusement at Frank's continuous doom-and-gloom side commentary.

Leaning forward, Fenton placed his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his folded hands as he considered Joe's strategy. The ticking of the clock on the mantel resonated through the room in a steady rhythm, adding to Joe's anxiety and resulting in more fidgeting than usual which in turn annoyed his brother to no end. Fenton shifted slightly, his chin now supported in a "cradle" made by his thumbs as he tapped his forefingers together thoughtfully. After what seemed an eternity, Fenton sat back in his chair, crossing one leg comfortably over the other and announced his decision.

"I hate it."

"Yes!" Frank crowed triumphantly, giving his younger sibling an _'I-told-you-so!'_ look.

Chuckling to himself, Fenton watched his younger son, knowing Joe was about to launch into what he was sure would prove to be an animated and engaging argument defending his idea. Torn between the entertainment such an argument would provide, particularly with Frank's added 'insights', or saving Joe from any further stress, Fenton passed up the opportunity to watch his sons at their bantering best.

"But we don't have much choice," Fenton finished his announcement, laughing out loud at the stunned looks he got from both his sons.

"You agree?" Joe finally asked, still looking a little bewildered.

"Yes, Joe, I agree with you," Fenton replied, turning serious once more. "We're all going on the assumption that eventually Vanessa will wake up and tell us what happened that night in great detail. We have to remember that she suffered a pretty serious concussion. Even when she fully regains consciousness, there is no guarantee she will even remember what happened.

"If that's the case, Ryan could get off with a slap on the wrist, if that much. He can't even be charged with breaking and entering since Joe probably opened the door for him. Even if that hair forensics found in the closet turns out to be his, all it proves is that he was in the apartment at some point."

"But if it matches the DNA found on Joe and Vanessa, that would prove…" Frank began excitedly but quickly ran out of steam.

"That would prove he was there and had contact with both of them. There's no crime in that. By the time Ryan was even found, whatever injuries Vanessa or Joe may have inflicted on him could be healed, leaving no proof that whatever contact they had was violent in nature. If neither one of them could remember what happened, Ryan could easily make up any number of scenario's to cover himself and logically explain it all away."

Leaning forward again, Fenton reached out and rested a hand on Frank's knee. "I don't like putting Joe in danger any more than you do. But most of the legally obtained evidence we have right now points to Joe. The only prints on the knife are his and Vanessa's. He was holding the knife when the police arrived. We all saw that. He went after Con with the knife when he tried to get near Vanessa. The blood test confirms a large quantity of LSD was in Joe's system that night. Still more LSD was found in his gym bag. And Vanessa identified him as her assailant in front of Collig and Riley, which may or may not make it to court. We need a confession. There's just no getting around that." Sitting back, Fenton fixed his gaze on Joe. "I do want to make a few minor changes in your plan, though."

"Sure, Dad. Whatever you think is best," Joe readily agreed. Hearing all the evidence against him laid out so matter-of-factly made Joe all the more determined to follow through and get a confession out of Ryan no matter what he had to do.

"We won't be able to get any official help on this, but I don't want Frank trying to keep track of you alone. Too many things could go wrong. I'd like you to call your friends and ask them to help keep tabs on you," Fenton explained, turning to Frank.

"Tomorrow, Joe can start going out by himself. Hopefully that will draw Ryan out. I doubt he'll go after Vanessa again anytime soon…although he'll have to do it eventually. He needs both Joe and Vanessa out of the picture to get his hands on that money." He shook his head, never having understood how one person could kill another for money – or any reason other than self-defense.

"I'd like you to have one of your friends with you at all times." Fenton focused on Frank again. "Can you call Biff, Chet, Tony and Phil tonight and see if they can help you?"

"Absolutely. They'll jump at the chance to help out," Frank nodded enthusiastically, feeling a little better knowing he would have help in keeping Joe safe.

"If Ryan does grab you," Fenton looked at Joe, "I can call the police and report your kidnapping. With a little bit of luck, they'll arrive in time to hear you goad Ryan into making a full confession."

With a yawn, Fenton looked at his watch, then stood up and stretched. "I take it you two can handle it from here?"

"We've got it covered, Dad," Frank replied.

"When you're done making the arrangements with your friends, get some sleep. You'll need to be alert tomorrow. We can't afford to make a mistake on this."

Glancing at his younger brother, Frank agreed wholeheartedly.

oooOOOooo

The following morning Frank and Chet sat in the driveway of a neighbor a few houses down from the Hardys. The beat up old Camaro Chet and Joe had spent most of the spring and early summer restoring was Chet's pride and joy. While the body of the car left a lot to be desired, they had recently finished work on the engine and everything else under the hood, ensuring no one would be able to out run them.

"Here he comes," Frank murmured to a napping Chet.

Cracking an eye, Chet saw Joe walk down the driveway, breaking into a slow jog when he hit the street. Chet waited until Joe got to the end of the block, before starting the engine and pulling out into the street. Despite staying far enough away from Joe so as not to arouse suspicion, Frank and Chet saw nothing unusual as they tailed Joe on his five-mile run to the beach and back. Dropping Frank back at the Hardy home, Chet made sure he knew when his next "shift" began before departing for home.

Joe's afternoon trip to the mall, with Frank and Phil watching his every move proved just as uneventful, leaving Joe to wonder if his plan had been such a good idea. Trying to keep his brother's spirits up, Frank reminded him this was only the first day and was relieved when Joe laughed at Frank's hopeful comment that the following day would result in Joe's abduction.

The next morning Joe left for a visit to the gym, content in the knowledge that Biff, as manager of the gym, would be watching his every move inside while Frank kept watch from the parking lot. Halfway to his destination, Joe's cell phone rang. Picking it up, Joe glanced at the caller ID and saw his brother's cell phone number.

"Hey, Big Brother, what's up?" Joe asked.

"You've picked up a tail," Frank replied tersely.

"Which one?" Joe asked glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Dark green Ford Taurus. Two cars behind you."

"Got him."

"I doubt he'll try anything until you get to the gym. Too many witnesses. I'll call Biff and give him a heads up. Be careful, Joe," Frank warned, concern clearly evident in his voice.

"You too," Joe said, disconnecting the call.

As Frank predicted, Joe made it to the gym with no problem. He could feel the adrenaline rush as he got out of his car and retrieved his new gym bag from the trunk. Almost expecting to be grabbed, Joe was a little surprised when he made it through the front doors of the gym without being accosted. Walking up to the desk, he handed his membership card to Biff, who swiped it through the computer then reached behind him, picking a locker key off the pegboard and handing it to Joe.

"Frank called a few minutes ago," Biff said quietly. "He thinks Ryan might be waiting until you leave to make his move. Frank is going to wait in his car. I'll keep you covered in here."

Joe nodded in agreement, taking the key from Biff, and heading to the locker room. Walking back through the lobby on his way to the weight room a few moments later, Biff waved Joe over to the desk.

"Frank called. Ryan is sitting in his car in the parking lot watching the front door," Biff said breaking into a grin. "Don't wear yourself out, buddy. It looks like when you leave here, you're going to be kidnapped!"


	26. Chapter 26

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 26**

Having phoned his father and updated him on the situation, Frank sat back and waited, his steady gaze alternating between the front door of the gym and Ryan, who was seated in his car waiting for his prey to appear. Both were rewarded a little over an hour later, when Joe emerged from the fitness center. After stowing his gym bag in the trunk, Joe got into his car and pulled away. Seconds later, Ryan followed. As soon as Ryan's attention was focused on Joe, Biff came out of the gym and jogged over to Frank's car, hopping into the passenger seat.

"I called Dad. He's just waiting for word from us that Ryan has Joe, then he'll call in the police," Frank said nervously, his eyes never leaving the green Ford that was tracking his brother.

Not wanting Ryan to realize he was being followed, Frank waited, keeping an eye on both Joe and Ryan who were approaching the traffic light at the corner. As the light turned red, Joe came to a stop with Ryan one car behind him.

Satisfied that he wouldn't be spotted, Frank began to pull out of the space just as a small, yellow convertible came screaming into the parking lot directly in front of him. With lightning quick reflexes, Frank slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a collision with the little car that now had him boxed in.

Laying on the horn, Frank stuck his head out the window. "Hey, move it! I'm in a hurry!" he yelled, cursing as the light turned green.

The door of the convertible opened and a rather voluptuous young blonde woman stepped out and walked over to Frank, oblivious to his demands.

"I'm so sorry!" the woman said, her voice light and happy. "Are you all right?" She bent down and poked her head in the window of his car.

"Dumb blonde!" Biff muttered under his breath before bolting from the car and running towards the street, trying to keep Joe's car in sight.

"We're fine," Frank responded through gritted teeth. "Now could you please move your car?! We're in kind of a hurry."

"Oh, thank goodness!" the woman gushed. "I was just talking to my best friend, Jessica on my cell, ya know? See, she met this guy last night and he's, like, to _die_ for and I was just so excited for her I didn't even notice you," she babbled on.

"That's okay." Frank gripped the steering wheel, watching his brother and Ryan disappear around the corner. "If you could just move your car…"

"I'm just so glad you and your friend weren't hurt," the woman continued, completely ignoring Frank's request. "Because if you had been hurt because of me, well, I just don't know how I could live with that. I can't believe I didn't even see you." Reaching in through the window, she placed a hand on Frank's bicep and squeezed. "Hey, do you work out here? I don't remember seeing you around. If not you should join up. I work out here every day." She smiled seductively, looking at Frank through lowered eyelashes.

With a low growl, Frank closed his eyes and began counting to ten attempting to keep his rapidly rising temper in check. Opening his eyes a few seconds later, he saw the woman was now kneeling beside his car, her forearms resting on the door, gazing up at him adoringly.

"You know you're awfully cute. I really go for the tall, dark and handsome type. Why don't we skip the workout and I'll buy you a drink. You know, to make up for almost killing you."

Frank glowered at the woman and wordlessly held his left hand in front of her face.

"You're married but you're not dead!" she winked.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!" Frank finally exploded.

"You don't have to yell." The woman stood up and smoothed her hair, obviously miffed at the unexpected rejection. "I was just trying to be nice." Slowly she walked back to her car and got in, picking up her cell phone and dialing as she pulled away.

Peeling out of the parking space, Frank headed for the exit and turned onto the street, tires squealing. Approaching the corner, he slowed just enough for Biff, who had been running back to the parking lot, to jump into the passenger seat.

"Right on King. Right on Fitzwater," Biff managed to get out as he gasped for air. "Ran down to Fitzwater, but they were already gone."

"Damn!" Frank cursed under his breath.

"Don't worry. We'll find them," Biff said, breathing a little more evenly now.

"Here, call Joe," Frank ordered tossing Biff his cell phone. "Speed dial, number one."

Pressing the single digit, Biff held the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. "Come on, Joe. Pick it up, buddy. Answer the phone." His heart sank when the only response came in the form of Joe's voice mail greeting. Disconnecting the call, he turned to Frank.

"He's not answering," Biff said quietly.

Slamming his fist against the steering wheel in frustration, Frank silently chided himself for not working out a planned route with Joe beforehand. _'Stupid, stupid, stupid!'_

Refusing to give up so easily, Frank and Biff drove around for several minutes, taking the streets they thought Joe would most likely use to return to the Hardy home. Finally admitting defeat, Frank pulled over. Leaning his head back against the seat, he prepared himself for what he had to do next. Silently, he held out his hand in a request for his cell phone. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the speed dial for his father, blurting out three words the second Fenton answered.

"I lost Joe."


	27. Chapter 27

Under The Influence

Chapter 27

Stepping through the doors into the early afternoon sunshine, Joe donned his sunglasses and walked briskly to his car. Secure in the knowledge that Frank was watching his every move, Joe tossed his gym bag in the trunk, climbed into his car and pulled out without so much as a glance at Frank or Ryan. Merging with traffic as he left the parking lot, Joe came to a stop at the corner as the light turned red. Checking his rearview mirror, he saw one car separating him from the green Ford.

As the light changed to green, Joe turned right watching Ryan follow him. Bypassing the next street, Joe continued down the block to Fitzwater Street and made another right turn, immediately slowing due to the massive traffic jam in front of him. Checking the dashboard clock, he realized downtown would be packed with pedestrian and automotive traffic alike as Bayport's workforce began to break for lunch.

Frowning, Joe knew Ryan would never make a move on him with so many witnesses. As he sat in traffic drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Joe smile grimly as an idea formed. Slowly inching forward, Joe turned left at the next street and repeated the move again, now heading out of town.

Ten minutes later, the buildings and congestion of the city gave way to neat suburban homes with manicured lawns and children playing in driveways and on sidewalks. Continuing on it wasn't long before the homes gave way to farmland. With the extraneous outside noise now gone, Joe could clearly hear the familiar chirp of his cell phone resonating from the trunk.

Groaning, Joe realized he'd forgotten to take it out of his gym bag. He briefly considered pulling over to retrieve the phone, but decided against it. He hadn't seen Frank since he'd pulled out of the parking lot at the gym, but then again, Frank was an expert at tailing suspects. Joe hadn't expected to see his brother's car at all. However, they were now out in the country where the roads were much less traveled and a lot more isolated. With no way to warn Frank of his intention to pull over and reclaim his phone, it was almost a certainty that Frank would catch up to them, alerting Ryan that something wasn't quite right. Assuming Frank was calling just to check in, Joe continued on.

Less than a mile later, the green Ford suddenly sped up dramatically, pulling into the left lane. Joe eased off the accelerator as if he were letting the other car pass. When Ryan had pulled just a few inches ahead of Joe, he yanked the wheel hard to the right, forcing Joe off the road and into a ditch.

Cringing at the thought of what the deep ruts and grooves were doing to the undercarriage of his new car, Joe nonetheless followed through until his car came to a stop. Almost immediately, his door was pulled open and he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

"Get out," Ryan ordered stepping back just enough to allow Joe to squeeze out of the car.

Joe slowly exited the car, his hands in the air, his eyes trained on the barrel of the gun.

Reaching out Ryan grabbed Joe's arm, twisting it behind his back and pressing the gun into the back of his head.

"Walk," Ryan commanded, steering Joe towards the rear of the Taurus. "Stop," he instructed once they were standing next to the trunk. "Now, you're going to pick up that rope on the ground and tie it around your ankles. And don't try anything funny. You're going to end up dead. It doesn't matter to me whether it happens here or somewhere else."

Nodding once, Joe leaned over and picked up the rope, tying it around his ankles. As he was straightening up, he heard a familiar 'pop' and the trunk lid opened. Feeling the gun pressed into his back, Joe saw a hand reach into the trunk and pull out another coil of rope.

"Hands behind your back," Ryan demanded, waiting until Joe did as he was told before pocketing the gun. Pushing Joe up against the bumper, Ryan tied his hands with the rope. Before Joe could react to what was happening, Ryan gave him a hard shove and Joe tumbled into the trunk, wincing as he landed hard on his left shoulder.

Joe was quickly enveloped in darkness as Ryan slammed the lid shut. He felt the car lurch as Ryan got in and tried to brace himself feeling the car rolling over the gravel shoulder and back on to the road. Bemoaning the bruises he knew would form, Joe took comfort in knowing his brother wasn't far behind them ensuring this whole nightmare would soon be coming to an end.

Joe estimated it wasn't more than five minutes later when the car made a left turn and the road immediately turned bumpy. Rutted grooves and deep holes cause Joe to be tossed about the trunk before they finally came to a stop. Once again, the car rocked as Ryan got out. Hearing no footsteps, Joe realized they must have been muffled by grass and vegetation. As the trunk opened, Joe squeezed his eyes shut at the blazing sunlight.

Taking advantage of Joe's momentary blindness, Ryan roughly hauled him out of the trunk, cutting the ropes around his ankles and pushing him forward. Finally, opening his eyes a crack, Joe saw they were approaching a dilapidated, run down barn with broken windows and a partially caved in roof.

Yanking the door open, Ryan propelled Joe forward, pulling him to a stop in front of a very unsteady looking wooden chair. Spinning Joe around, Ryan shoved him into the chair, tying his ankles to the legs of the chair. Cutting the ropes that bound his wrists, Ryan then tied each of Joe's arms to the wooden poles flanking the back of the chair.

Not wanting Ryan to confess until Frank, Fenton and the police were in position to hear it, Joe remained silent, simply watching as Ryan moved about the room. Walking over to another chair, Ryan placed the small bag he'd carried in with him on the seat and unzipped it. Joe got a chill as he recognized the items pulled out – a rubber tube, cigarette lighter, spoon, syringe, and small plastic bag filled with a white powder.

Suddenly Joe's vision became hazy and his breathing became labored. Taking in short gulps of air Joe saw vivid images swimming before him… _a blonde stranger forcing himself into the apartment…Vanessa running into the living room…a piercing scream as Joe turned to her…a fist making contact with his jaw…a needle penetrating his arm… paranoia like nothing he'd ever felt before… _The images became faster, frantic and more violent…_more screaming… breaking glass…still more screams…Vanessa!…knives…a sea of blood…_

With a muffled whimper, Joe slowly became aware of a presence, someone standing directly in front of him. Forcing himself to focus, Joe looked up to see Ryan smiling down on him with contempt.

"Flashback?" Ryan asked knowingly. "I'm not surprised. Your first trip was a pretty bad one. You were so paranoid even _**I**_ thought someone was after you."

Joe tried to speak and failed, unable to take his eyes off the items Ryan had neatly laid out on the other chair. Swallowing hard, he tried again. "What's that for?" he jerked his chin forward in the direction of the chair.

"You," Ryan replied.

"Thanks, but I don't do drugs," Joe said sarcastically.

"You do now. In fact, tonight you're going to OD. Your poor parents will find your body in their garage. They'll also find your suicide note, confessing to your drug problem and the murder of your girlfriend." Ryan threw him an evil grin.

"There's one little problem with your plan," Joe informed him. "I won't write it."

"You don't have to," Ryan laughed, "I took the liberty of doing it for you."

"But Vanessa isn't dead."

"She will be," Ryan smiled sadistically. "I'll be paying her a visit as soon as I'm finished with you."


	28. Chapter 28

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 28**

'_I lost Joe.' _

Fenton was momentarily stunned as the words registered. A bolt of fear coursed through him as reality set in. Ryan had Joe and no one knew where they were.

'_Joe's smart. Resourceful,' _Fenton told himself. _'He can get himself out of this. Unless…'_

"Frank," Fenton began uncertainly, "does Joe realize he doesn't have any backup?"

Silence.

"Frank?"

"No." Frank's voice was barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Dad."

'_Damn! Why did I agree to this? Together we could have come up with something safer and just as effective,'_ Fenton second-guessed himself.

"Dad?" Frank's voice brought him back to the problem at hand. "Are…are you there?"

Fenton's heart broke just a little at the tone in Frank's voice. Contrite. Remorseful. Ashamed. Like it was when he was a child and Joe got hurt while in the care of his older brother. It was always minor – a skinned knee or scraped elbow. Wounds that became routine during Joe's rough and tumble childhood as his wild and adventurous nature made itself known. Once the tears were dried and band-aids applied, the mishaps were quickly forgotten by all.

'_All except Frank,'_ Fenton reflected.

Frank was always devastated that his younger brother had been injured while under his supervision, blaming himself and carrying the guilt around for days in spite of Fenton and Laura's efforts to absolve him of it. Even when Fenton pointed out that Joe seemed to come home with minor scrapes and bruises on a daily basis regardless of whom he was with, it had done nothing to ease Frank's guilty conscience. He had failed at his job of "Big Brother" and that was unacceptable to Frank, even if no one else agreed. Unfortunately, Frank had carried those lofty expectations for himself into adulthood, leaving Fenton to wonder whether he had failed as a father.

'_Not this time,' _he thought. "I'm here, Frank."

"I didn't mean to lose him, Dad, but this woman, she cut me off and then she started babbling about her friend and some guy. She wouldn't move her car-" Frank tried to explain, his voice rising slightly.

"It's okay, Frank, don't worry about that now," Fenton tried to comfort him at the same time wondering how they'd find Joe and Ryan. "Where did you last see Joe and Ryan?"

"They turned right on Fitzwater Street. That's the last we saw of them," Frank replied, regaining his composure.

"And you checked the house? He's not there?" Fenton asked, knowing instinctively Frank had already done so. He guessed Frank had probably checked all over town, more than once, before having to call and tell Fenton he'd lost track of his younger brother.

"Yes, I checked the house, all the routes he could have taken to get there. We've been all over town, Dad, and there's no sign of them anywhere," Frank said, with a hint of panic.

"Well, that's good. At least we know where he isn't. That saves a little time." Fenton drummed his fingers on the desk. "What kind of car is Ryan driving?"

"A dark green Ford Taurus. It's a rental, license number 837265," Frank replied.

Fenton quickly jotted down the information. "Biff is with you, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Have him call your friends and start a search. Give each of them an area to cover. I'll call Collig and tell him what's happened. I should be able to convince him to put out an APB on Joe, Ryan and both their cars."

"Got it," Frank said. Fenton smiled at the determination in his voice, knowing he felt a little better now that he had something to do.

"Have everyone check in with me regularly. I'll coordinate the search from here," Fenton instructed.

"Okay," Frank replied, hesitating before he ended the call. "Dad?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose him," Frank apologized, shame and embarrassment evident in his voice.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Frank. If anyone is to blame here, it's me. You were against this idea from the start. I should have listened to you. Together the three of us could have come up with something else that wouldn't have put Joe's life in danger."

"Thanks, Dad." Fenton could almost hear the relief in Frank's voice as he hung up. Almost.

oooOOOooo

Handing the phone to Biff, Frank instructed him to call Tony, Chet and Phil giving specific areas each of them were to cover.

"Have Tony look down on the docks and the area by the waterfront. Phil can check out the neighborhoods and housing developments. Tell Chet to drive around out by the farm. Have all of them check in with Dad every ten minutes," Frank ordered, lapsing into an uneasy silence as he listened to Biff make the calls.

As he drove, Frank couldn't get Joe's words out of his head_. "You could swoop in and save the day."_ Joe had been grinning like crazy, no doubt in his mind that Frank would be there, waiting, worrying and ultimately ensuring Joe came out of it with nary a hair out of place.

'_Hang in there, little brother,'_ Frank thought, wondering what was happening to Joe at that very moment.

"It wasn't your fault, Frank," Biff's solemn voice jolted Frank back to reality. "It could've happened to anybody."

"But it didn't happen to anybody. It happened to me," Frank said bitterly. "It never even crossed his mind that I could make a mistake. He trusted me, Biff! Trusted me with his life."

"With valid reason. You've never let him down before and you won't start now," Biff replied with conviction.

"I lost him, Biff!" Frank cried out. "If anything happens to him, I'll never forgive myself."

Silence descended on the two young men, as they stared out the window, each lost in their own thoughts as they searched their designated area. An occasional glance at Frank told Biff his friend had spoken the truth. If Joe didn't come out of this unscathed, Frank would never be able to live with himself.

oooOOOooo

Slowly driving over the two-lane country roads, Chet Morton kept one eye out for traffic and the other on the vast, open fields. Farmland took up much of this area on the outskirts of Bayport, but Chet was intimately familiar with every inch of it. A smile sprang to his lips as he recalled the many summers he and Joe had spent traversing the countryside chasing enemy soldiers, Indians or any number of imaginary criminals. He laughed out loud remembering the time they decided the tall, swaying grass was actually the deep blue sea as they set out to capture Black Beard the pirate, once and for all. His eyes misted over momentarily as he thought of the time, years later, when he'd caught Joe and his sister Iola in a somewhat compromising position, both of them assuming their activities were hidden by the tall vegetation.

"Keep him safe until we find him, Sis," Chet sent out a prayer to his sister, whom he knew unflinchingly would answer it. Joe had been her first, and only, love and Chet firmly believed that she still watched over him to this day and would continue to do so for the rest of his life.

Constantly scanning his surroundings, Chet's eyes widened a few moments later as he saw something off to the side of the road on the right. Slowing down, his heart began to race as he recognized Joe's brand new shiny black Mustang, sitting awkwardly in a ditch, the driver's side door wide open. Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed Fenton Hardy's number.

"Mr. Hardy! I found Joe's car!" he blurted out, before his friends' father could even utter a word.

"Where?" Fenton demanded.

"County Road 218. Half a mile past Old Schoolhouse Lane on the right. It's in a ditch and the driver's door is open but there's no sign of Joe or Ryan."

"Sit tight until we get there, Chet," Fenton ordered disconnecting the call.

Minutes later, Chet glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed Frank's car speeding towards him, slowing as it pulled on to the shoulder behind him. Biff jumped out before it had even come to a complete stop. Seconds later Frank followed him, making a beeline for Joe's car.

Sliding out of his own vehicle, Chet joined Biff who was a few steps behind Frank. Studying the ground as he approached the car, Frank noted the trampled grass and displaced dirt. Slowly circling the car, he saw there was no sign of a struggle anywhere else.

Slipping on a pair of latex gloves to preserve any fingerprints, Frank examined the inside of the car carefully. Using the spare key Joe had given him, he unlocked the trunk. Opening Joe's gym bag, he saw the cell phone laying nestled in a t-shirt. Picking it up, he turned to Biff holding it aloft.

"That explains why he didn't answer when you called."

Hearing the sound of approaching sirens, Frank tossed the cell phone back in the bag and closed the trunk. Turning, he saw a police car, followed by his father's Lincoln. Further down the road he saw two more vehicles which he recognized as Tony's pick up and Phil's' SUV as they got a little closer.

"What have you got?" Ezra Collig barked as he hurried to Frank's side, his eyes already scanning the scene.

As Fenton, Con and the rest of the search party joined them, Frank pointed out the trampled grass and scattered dirt. Following it back to the shoulder, they saw the fresh tire tracks of another car. After another few minutes of collecting the meager evidence, Collig frowned and scratched his head. Scanning the vast open spaces surrounding them, he realized they had a lot of area to cover and no time to do it in. His eyes came to rest on Frank and Fenton Hardy. As the father and son stared at each other with a look of dejection, he could almost read their thoughts. Gazing at the rest of the small group, he knew they were all thinking the same depressing thing…Joe could be anywhere. Collig knew they would find Joe eventually, the question was, would he still be alive when they did?


	29. Chapter 29

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 29**

As the small group gathered around and listened to Fenton Hardy and Ezra Collig debate their options, Chet kept a close eye on Frank. He already saw the look taking shape in Frank's eyes. The look he'd grown used to seeing on his own face each morning when he gazed in the mirror. The unbearable pain had lessened to a dull ache over the years. Still, Chet knew it would never go away completely. It would be with him until the day he died.

The agony of having to bury his younger sibling, even if only symbolically, would increase or decrease depending on the day, or his mood, but it would never, ever be forgotten. It was a special kind of torment. It was the first thing that greeted him in the morning and the last thing he thought of at night, sometimes even haunting his dreams.

Chet could feel it creeping up on him now as the saw the frequent glances Frank would throw at Joe's abandoned car. While Chet loved his sister dearly, he knew their relationship couldn't come close to the intense bond Frank and Joe shared. He knew if Joe did not survive whatever Ryan had planned for him, a big part of Frank would die right along with him. It was clear to everyone assembled that Frank felt completely responsible for Joe's current situation and Chet knew that could make the pain of Joe's death, should it happen, even more unbearable for Frank.

'_If that's even possible.'_

Considering that dark possibility, Chet looked skyward turning to his sister once again, as he prayed for Joe's safety until they could locate him. He had to live with the heartache of Iola's death every day and he wouldn't wish that kind of pain on his worst enemy let alone one of his closest friends.

Chet moved inconspicuously, until he stood beside Frank. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Frank's shoulder and squeezed. Turning, Frank looked at one of his oldest and dearest friends and read the message in his eyes.

'_We'll find Joe. Alive. You won't have to go through the hell I did.'_

With a trembling smile of thanks, Frank put his hand on top of Chet's and squeezed it gratefully.

Chet heard Fenton Hardy calling his name and snapped his head around.

"Yes?"

"You know this area better than anyone," Fenton began. "Ryan wants Joe dead as soon as possible. He's not going to waste time transporting Joe any great distance just to kill him. Is there anywhere close by he could go to accomplish that? The more isolated the better," Fenton concluded, shuddering at having to make such direct references to his own son's possible murder.

Gazing at his surroundings Chet thought hard. A bead of sweat popped out on his forehead as he felt the pressure at being seen as Joe's only chance for survival.

'_Come on, think!'_ he admonished himself. _'You know this area like the back of your hand. Just think it through logically…'_

"The Beeson farm!" Chet blurted out. "It's less than a mile from here and it's been abandoned for years! The only thing left standing is an old barn. It's far enough off the main road that it can't be seen!"

"You lead," Collig barked at Chet as everyone swarmed to their cars.

Frank's heart started to race as he pulled out onto the road directly behind Chet. _'Hang on, Joe. We're coming!'_

As Chet predicted, not quite a mile down the road, a rutted, overgrown dirt path appeared on the left. If one didn't know it was there, they would zip right past it. Chet led the group a little ways down the road and came to a stop. Getting out of the car, he waited for the others to join him.

"It's about a quarter of a mile down there," he said, pointing behind him. "But it's completely isolated. If we drive up, they'll hear us."

"Then we walk," Fenton said grimly. Looking down he pointed out the tire tracks in the dirt that matched the ones they had seen on the shoulder of the road. With a renewed sense of purpose, he started out in the direction Chet had indicated, with Frank by his side.

It was only moments later when a dilapidated old barn came into view, a dark green Ford Taurus parked next to it. Collig and Riley now moved forward and took the lead. With guns drawn, they motioned for everyone to remain silent. As they neared the weather-beaten structure, Ryan's muffled voice could be heard through the open roof and broken windows.

Soundlessly, the group made their way forward until they were nestled up against the outside wall. Carefully Frank stood and peered in a broken window. His heart stopped momentarily at what he saw. His brother was tied to a wooden chair, hand and foot. Ryan's back was to the window partially blocking Joe's view, which prevented Frank from making eye contact with him.

Frank's throat tightened as he saw the right sleeve of Joe's shirt had been pushed up and a piece of rubber tubing was tied securely around his upper arm, allowing the veins in his arm to be clearly visible. As Ryan abruptly turned and walked to the only other chair in the room, Frank pulled back so he was no longer visible through the window although he still had a clear view of what was going on.

Fear clutched at his heart as he saw Ryan open a plastic bag, dipping a spoon into it. As he pulled the spoon out, Frank could see it was laden with a white powder. Picking up a cigarette lighter, Ryan flicked it with his thumb and a small flame sprang to life. He placed it under the spoon and methodically moved it back in forth in a slow and calculated manner. It took several moments of this before the powder transformed itself into a clear liquid.

Very carefully, Ryan placed the lighter on the chair and picked up the syringe, filling it with the deadly liquid. Turning, he walked back to stand in front of Joe. Holding the needle in front of Joe's face Ryan smiled down on his captive.

"Any last words before your fatal overdose?"


	30. Chapter 30

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 30**

"Actually I do have a question. Since I'm going to die anyway, could you satisfy my curiosity and tell me exactly what happened?" Joe requested, still needing a verbal confession from Ryan in order for the plan to work.

"Still don't remember what happened, huh?" Ryan chuckled. "That LSD is good stuff. My boss only deals in the best. Who knows how long you'd be having flashbacks and hallucinations. Too bad you won't get to enjoy this for very long." He held up the full syringe.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" Joe demanded.

"Sure, why not," Ryan responded. "You won't be around to tell anyone." Stepping back, he sat on the floor in front of Joe, legs crossed in front of him with his arms resting on his knees.

"I have a debt I need to pay off. A pretty hefty one. When I got the letter about the inheritance from dear old Uncle George, it was like some kind of sign. With my share and Vanessa's I'll have enough to pay off the debt and still have some left over for me. Even after taxes." Ryan's face lit up like he'd won the lottery.

Even though Joe already knew all this, hearing Ryan admit it lit a fuse deep inside him. However knowing Ryan had to freely admit to everything himself so no one could accuse Joe of coercion, Joe forced himself to remain silent although there was no mistaking the burning hatred in his eyes.

"My boss doesn't take kindly to unpaid debts," Ryan continued. "That's who I owe the money to. My boss. Anyway, it took me a day or so, but I finally tracked down Aunt Andrea and Vanessa. I haven't seen Vanessa in close to twenty years. Never thought she'd turn out to be such a babe." Ryan winked, laughing at the low growl that escaped Joe's throat.

"Down, boy. She's hot but she's still my flesh and blood."

"Didn't stop you from trying to kill her," Joe reminded him.

"Nothing personal. Just self preservation," Ryan remarked. Standing up, he began to pace the small barn. "You on the other hand…let's just say I won't lose any sleep over killing you. I thought I had it made. I mean who'd think a twenty-two-year old chick only a year out of college would have a will." He stopped, shaking his head at Joe. "You really threw a wrench into my plans. Still, I had it all worked out. But then she wouldn't die and you started to remember too much too soon."

Joe couldn't hide a smile at Ryan's remark. He still didn't have a clue about Sam and Frank's fact-finding trip to Florida. He simply thought Joe recognized him from the night he forced his way into the apartment.

"An associate of mine who's a whiz on the computer did a little research for me. He found out about you and Vanessa's will. Granted I had to break into the warehouse to find out exactly who her primary beneficiary was once I got to town, but that was okay. I really didn't want to have to hurt Aunt Andrea. She was always nice to me…" Ryan's voice trailed off as his eyes took on a faraway look.

"So you pay her back by murdering her daughter?!" Joe exclaimed in disbelief.

Whirling around Ryan backhanded Joe across the face. "Do you want to know what happened or not?" he asked, suddenly angry.

Joe nodded, licking the blood off his cut lip.

Ryan resumed pacing, a little faster and more frenetic this time.

"I went to your apartment building that night. The plan was to kill Vanessa and set you up to take the fall. Your little stint in drug rehab when you were seventeen played right into my hands. That stupid pizza delivery boy let me walk right into the building. Then you opened the door for me. You put up a fight, yelling for Vanessa to get out of the apartment. She came running into the living room and screamed. You turned to look at her and I got in a lucky punch."

The image of a fist crashing into his jaw came out of nowhere for Joe. As if he were watching a movie, he saw someone chasing Vanessa back towards the bedroom and he heard another scream before Ryan's voice brought him back to the present.

"She locked herself in the bathroom. Guess she thought it was safe enough. But that gave me enough time to come back and take care of you." Ryan held up the syringe. "Shot you up with what turned out to be your first experience with LSD. Man, I've seen some bad trips before but yours must have set some kind of record. You thought people were attacking you from all sides.

"While you were trying to 'escape' from them, I went back to the bathroom and jimmied the door open. Had to drag her kicking and screaming into the kitchen. I was afraid you'd hear her screaming and try to play the hero, but you were so far gone you didn't have clue what was going on." Ryan grimaced as he fingered a bruise on his cheek. "Not that she needed any help. Man, she's a fighter.

"Lucky for me you left that knife on the counter. She almost got away from me once. Picked up that glass of soda and broke it against the counter. Then she tried to cut me with it. Did you teach her that trick?" Ryan asked.

"So, I didn't stab her, you did," Joe conjectured, picking up on Ryan's reference to the knife.

Ryan started to answer but snapped his mouth shut, studying the look on Joe's face. "You don't remember who stabbed her, do you?" Ryan smiled sadistically, enjoying the look of confusion Joe couldn't hide.

"Nah. I think I'll let you die never knowing which one of us did it." Ryan moved towards Joe, reaching for his arm. "After that it was just a matter of planting the drugs in your gym bag and getting out. Thank God you only live on the second floor. The jump off the balcony wasn't too bad. But that nosy neighbor of yours saw me. I almost thought I'd blown it but he kept calling me Joe, so he obviously thought I was you," he chuckled. "Okay, enough reminiscing. I want to get this over with and go home."

"Vanessa has a twenty-four hour police guard now. You'll never get past them. Face it, your plan won't work," Joe said, realizing he was just about out of time.

Ryan shrugged, looking over Joe's arm carefully. "A cheap wig, some drugstore reading glasses, a stolen uniform and ID and I'll be just another hospital employee."

"How can you do this? Murder two people and not even think twice about it?" Joe exclaimed, trying to pull his arm out of Ryan's grasp.

"You don't understand!" Ryan shouted, pulling Joe forward roughly. Leaning down, Ryan glared at him, his face only a few inches away from Joe's. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be in debt to the most powerful drug lord in Florida? This inheritance is my ticket to freedom. I need that money! _ALL_ of it! Now shut up. It's time to get this over with once and for all."

Joe watched as Ryan grabbed his arm once again pulling it straight. He grimaced at the pain that shot through his now hyper-extended elbow.

'_Anytime now, Frank,'_ Joe mentally prodded his brother to appear.

As Ryan pressed the needle against his skin, Joe felt a slight prick.

'_Come on, Bro. I'm counting on you,'_ Joe thought, starting to get just a little nervous.

Watching as the needle pierced his skin and Ryan's thumb began to depress the plunger, Joe started to panic.

'_Frank, where are you?!'_


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Many thanks for all your kind reviews. Only two more chapters to go after this one so there is light at the end of the tunnel:-) And in this chapter you will finally get the answer to what seemed to be the most asked question throughout the story regarding Joe - did he or didn't he stab Vanessa??**

**--MY APOLOGIES!! I meant to say we get the answer to that question in the NEXT chapter! Oops, my bad... so sorry:-/**

Pandora and TraSan: Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews. They always make me smile.

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 31**

When Ryan had begun pacing, Frank had to give up his position at the window to ensure he wasn't seen. Once again crouching on the ground between Tony and Biff, Frank could only listen to the conversation between Ryan and Joe.

"I have a debt I need to pay off. A pretty hefty one. When I got the letter about the inheritance from dear old Uncle George, it was like some kind of sign. With my share and Vanessa's I'll have enough to pay off the debt and still have some left over for me. Even after taxes."

As they all clearly heard Ryan state his intent to acquire Vanessa's share of the inheritance, Tony threw Frank a huge grin and a thumbs up. Frank nodded and smiled back, but knew that Ryan simply stating his intentions wasn't enough. They needed an actual confession.

Listening to the comments Ryan made about the woman Vanessa had become, Frank winced at Joe's growled response.

'_Easy, Bro. Don't blow it now. We need more,'_ Frank thought nervously.

Relieved at Joe's lack of any further response, Frank smiled when he realized he'd been right. Ryan had no idea he'd been investigated in Florida and simply thought Joe had indeed remembered too much too soon.

His relief was fleeting as he heard the painful slap Ryan delivered at Joe's comment on Andrea Bender. Moving on sheer instinct Frank immediately started to rise, coming to his brothers defense the only thing on his mind. He had barely started to move when Biff grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. Yanking his arm away, Frank glared at Biff despite the fact that he knew Biff had done the right thing.

As Ryan began talking faster, Frank leaned forward looking around Biff at his father who was on the other side of the barn doors, crouched down next to Ezra Collig. Fenton smiled at Frank as Ryan described to Joe how he had gained access to the building launching into the full confession they so desperately needed.

Sitting back, Frank felt an air of depression settle around him as they learned how Vanessa's temporary escape into the bathroom only resulted in Ryan getting the time he needed to inject a large dose of LSD into a now dazed Joe. Particularly difficult for everyone, was listening to Ryan describe his attack on Vanessa and her attempts to fight back during Joe's severe reaction to the drug that quickly took control of his mind.

Frank felt his anger turning into a full blown rage as Ryan refused to tell Joe who had actually stabbed Vanessa, preferring instead to watch Joe suffer, still not knowing if he was the one who had inflicted the almost fatal wounds. Incensed at Ryan's tactics, Frank barely heard him conclude his confession with the escape off the balcony. However, Frank did hear Ryan's final words and they chilled him to the bone.

"It's time to get this over with once and for all."

Frank looked at his father and Ezra Collig frantically. Footsteps could be heard inside the barn, indicating Ryan was moving again but no more words were spoken. Seconds ticked by in total silence. Taking a chance, Frank silently rose to a standing position and peered through the open window.

Frank's eyes grew wide and he was sure his heart stopped as he saw Ryan grab Joe's arm, pull it straight and place the needle flush against Joe's skin. Snapping his head around, Frank began gesturing wildly. Immediately, Ezra Collig and Con Riley stormed through the barn doors, guns drawn.

"Freeze! Bayport Police!"

Time stood still for barely a second and then there was a flash of movement. Suddenly Ryan was behind Joe, his left hand enmeshed in Joe's hair. He roughly pulled Joe's head back, leaving Joe's neck exposed and vulnerable. The syringe in his right hand was now dangerously close to the carotid artery on Joe's neck, which funneled blood from the heart directly to the brain. Ryan's cold blue eyes searched out Fenton Hardy. Staring into the angry face of Joe's father, Ryan pressed the tip of the needle into Joe's skin, making the slightest indentation.

"There's enough LSD in here to kill him in less than a minute," Ryan warned darkly.

Despite the life or death situation Joe found himself in, he couldn't help but break into a tiny smile as his eyes locked on Frank's. His scalp was screaming from Ryan's unrelenting grip on his hair and Joe could feel the tip of the needle dangerously close to piercing the skin on his neck, yet he wasn't the least bit worried. Frank had arrived with the cavalry just as Joe knew he would, leading Joe to believe the plan had come off without a hitch.

Joe looked from Frank to his father, noting the seething anger Fenton had directed squarely at Ryan. After Ryan's proclamation of Joe's impending demise, a deathly silence ensued which was now broken by Con Riley.

"Ryan, put the syringe down and take a few steps back," Con said, his voice calm and soothing. "Vanessa is recovering. No one's been killed yet. Things will go a lot easier on you if you let him go now."

"Easier?" Ryan repeated his voice elevated slightly. "Easier how? I get to spend the next forty years in prison instead of my whole life? Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

As Ryan spoke, his hand began to shake as the reality of the situation hit him. "You guys were out there the whole time?" he asked, getting no response. Joe grimaced, as Ryan pulled harder on his hair, pressing down on the needle allowing it to just barely penetrate the skin. "You set me up!" he snarled through gritted teeth.

"Ryan!" Con barked, trying to get Ryan's attention off of Joe and back on him. "What will it take for you to let him go?"

"Negotiate?" Ryan asked, not sure whether Con should be trusted.

"Negotiate," Con agreed. "We don't want Joe to get hurt and you don't want to go to prison. We should be able to reach some kind of compromise."

"A plane," Ryan demanded. "I want a private plane to take me out of the country. Transportation to the airport. Two hundred thousand dollars."

"That can be arranged," Con replied.

"And him," Ryan gave another little tug on Joe's hair, "as a hostage."

"Uh-uh. No deal," Con said evenly.

"You can take me," Frank quickly spoke up. "I'm a licensed pilot. You'll get a pilot and a hostage in one shot and you'll have one less person to keep an eye on." There was a tense silence as Ryan considered Frank's offer.

Seeing Ryan's attention was momentarily diverted from him, Joe focused not on his older brother, but instead on Ezra Collig. Staring intently, he watched the police chief's every move, knowing his timing had to be perfect. Joe was suddenly very grateful for that fateful Saturday morning, several months earlier, when he couldn't sleep. He'd gone down to the police firing range to get in some target practice and found one other person with the same idea – Chief Ezra Collig. Somehow, they'd gotten into a friendly competition and that was when Joe learned the veteran cop's well-kept secret. Collig was an expert marksman, a sharpshooter extraordinaire. While Joe was by far the best marksman in his family, Ezra Collig had put him to shame, effortlessly hitting the bulls-eye dead center every time.

Joe now watched him carefully, looking for the signs. He could feel Frank's eyes on him, imploring Joe to look at him, make eye contact, but Joe couldn't take the chance of glancing away even for a second. He watched and waited patiently, not even daring to blink. And then he saw it. The hard steel-blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The trigger finger moved just a hair.

Bracing himself for the painful jolt he knew was unavoidable, Joe forcefully shifted his weight to the left, throwing himself to the floor. At the same instant, a gunshot echoed through the old barn. Ryan cried out in pain as the syringe flew from his hand. He clutched at his right shoulder feebly, in a futile attempt to stop the instantaneous flow of blood. In seconds, Riley and Collig had Ryan in handcuffs with Riley holding a makeshift pressure dressing over the bullet wound as Collig radioed for an ambulance.

"Should I make it two?" Collig directed the question at Fenton Hardy who, along with Frank, was feverishly working to free Joe from the ropes still holding him to the chair.

"No, I'm fine," Joe replied quickly. As the last of his bonds fell away, Joe sat on the floor grimacing and rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Are you sure about that?" Collig asked at the look on Joe's face.

"Yeah, just a bruise," Joe smiled.

"Let me see," Frank said worriedly, hovering over his brother.

Joe sat back, letting Frank examine his shoulder carefully, not saying a word. He'd seen the terror on his brother's face when Ryan had pressed the needle to his neck. If taking a few moments to satisfy himself that Joe was none the worse for wear would make Frank happy, Joe was more than willing to go along with it.

"You're really all right?" Fenton asked apprehensively, absently ruffling Joe's hair the way he did when Joe was a child.

Joe stifled a sigh at the gesture he hated, knowing it simply meant his father was deeply concerned about him.

Glancing down, Fenton let out a small gasp. "Your arm! It's bleeding!" Fenton cried out, not even trying to hide the panic in his voice. Looking back at his son, Fenton's eyes held the same look of fear.

"Joe…did he…are you…" Fenton began but stumbled over the words. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Were you injected with any of the LSD?"

'_Please, God, please let him say no,'_ Fenton prayed as his eyes began to burn. _'Please say no,' _he silently pleaded with Joe.

"No, Dad, I wasn't," Joe assured him. "The tip of the needle must have pierced my skin, but thanks to you guys he didn't have time to finish." Joe smiled, glancing around at his friends gratefully.

Fenton's shoulders slumped and he let out an audible sigh of relief. "Thank you," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Joe looked at his father worriedly. "Dad," he said softly, "are you all right?"

All of a sudden, Fenton grabbed Joe, pulling him into a tight hug. Automatically, Joe hugged his father back, momentarily stunned when he though he heard a muffled sob.

"Dad?" Joe repeated, growing concerned at his father's totally out of character reaction.

Fenton found he couldn't respond, simply holding tightly to his youngest son, lost in the guilt he'd never come to terms with six years earlier. After all this time, Fenton still hadn't forgiven himself for his part in the hell Joe had gone through when, at the age of seventeen, he was kidnapped resulting in short-lived heroin addiction.

At the time, Fenton had punished Joe for deliberately leaving the house when he had been expressly told not to. In not allowing Joe to accompany he and Frank on a stake out that night, Joe had been a sitting duck. When the Hardy home was broken into, Joe had been abducted as Laura was left behind, locked in the basement all night.

Over the next two days, Joe had been regularly injected with heroin in a failed attempt to get him permanently addicted to the drug. After being rescued by Fenton, Joe had been taken to Bayport General Hospital and then spent time in a drug rehabilitation facility. While he hadn't become addicted to the drug, he'd been given enough heroin during his captivity to cause physical withdrawal symptoms.

Determined to bring down the drug operation, Joe had let his family believe he'd become addicted to the drug, embarking on a solo undercover assignment. Eventually, Frank had discovered what Joe was up to resulting in the two of them, along with Fenton, Sam and several law enforcement agencies bringing down the suppliers who had kept Bayport's drug dealers in business.

Apparently, Ryan's forcibly injecting Joe with LSD had triggered the terrifying memories for Fenton, which in turn dredged up the guilt he had buried so many years ago. Despite the fact that Joe was now a grown man, Fenton still felt he had once again failed to protect his son from the horrors of drugs.

Sensing his father just needed to know he had come out of the whole ordeal unharmed, Joe patted Fenton on the back.

"Dad, it's okay. I'm fine. Really," Joe murmured.

Finally feeling his father's grip loosen a bit, Joe stepped back and looked into Fenton's red-rimmed eyes, flashing his best smile.

Placing his hand on the back of Joe's neck, Fenton squeezed lightly and finally smiled back at his son. "Yes. You are," he rasped.

As Frank watched the two, Joe grinned at his brother. "Thanks for the save, Bro. I told you it would be a piece of cake."

Frank pushed down the lump in his throat as the realization hit him. _'He thinks I was here the whole time! He has no idea what really happened!'_

"Uh, Joe…" Frank started to explain, stopping abruptly when Fenton seemed to go into a coughing spasm.

Looking up, Frank saw the look in his father's eyes, knowing immediately the coughing jag was a ruse. _'Not now!' _the look said. _'Later!'_

As Joe turned to stare at Ryan, Frank saw the anxiety in his brother's face and knew exactly what it meant. Frank strode across the room coming to a stop in front of Ryan.

"Tell him," Frank ordered, anger blazing in his eyes.

"Tell him what?" Ryan queried, knowing full well what Frank wanted.

"Tell him who stabbed Vanessa." Frank took another step closer.

Slowly, Biff, Tony, Chet and Phil flanked Frank. Unaccustomed to the anger they heard in his voice, they hovered closely, watching and waiting.

Ryan held Frank's gaze a second longer before turning his eyes on Joe. Seeing the anguish Joe couldn't hide, Ryan smiled sadistically.

"No," he said simply, thoroughly enjoying Joe's torment.

Immediately Frank lunged forward, grabbing for Ryan. Just as quickly, he felt his friends holding him back, murmuring words of caution.

"Tell him," Frank repeated obviously struggling to control his normally non-existent temper. "He'll find out anyway as soon as Vanessa wakes up," Frank reminded Ryan relaxing enough to appease his friends who backed off slightly.

"Frank, don't worry about," Joe said quietly. "It's okay."

"It is _not_ okay," Frank repeated, hatred permeating each word as his eyes bored into Ryan.

Looking back at Frank, Ryan was completely unfazed by the fire in his eyes. "Let him suffer," he said maliciously.

As the others looked on in shock, Frank's fist shot out, catching Ryan square on the chin, snapping his head back. "That's for Joe," he spat out, glaring down at Ryan. Turning, Frank walked back to his younger brother and placed a hand on his back protectively. "Let's get out of here."

As the two brothers approached the door, Joe turned to Frank and smiled knowingly. "Felt good, didn't it?"

"Damn good," Frank murmured, unable to contain a little smile of his own.

As they walked out into the afternoon sun, Frank's cell phone broke the silence. "It's Callie," he announced seeing the number on the screen.

"Hey, Babe." Frank listened a moment and then broke out in a huge grin. "We're on our way!" he exclaimed picking up speed as he pocketed the phone. Turning around and walking backwards, Frank motioned for his younger brother to pick up the pace.

"Come on, Joe! Hurry up!"

"What's the rush?" Joe asked, his cramped muscles protesting the rapid movement.

"Vanessa's awake and she's asking for _you_!" Frank grinned as he turned back around and broke into a jog. "Let's go!"


	32. Chapter 32

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 32**

After stopping just long enough to retrieve Joe's car, the brother's arrived at the hospital in record time. Rushing to the fourth floor, Joe suddenly came to an abrupt halt just outside Vanessa's room.

"What?" Frank asked almost running into Joe, unprepared for his sudden stop.

"What about the restraining order? Is it still in effect until Ryan is officially charged and processed?" Joe asked a little nervously.

Frank wasn't absolutely certain, but after all they'd been through, he wasn't about to let that stop Joe from seeing Vanessa when he was so close to her. "Don't worry about that." Frank replied, knowing it would be lifted shortly if it weren't already. "If anyone wants to haul you off to prison for violating it now, they'll have to get past me first."

Smiling, Joe pushed the door open and was at Vanessa's bedside in an instant.

"About time you showed up," Vanessa said softly.

"I was here before – once," Joe murmured taking her hand, oblivious to the raised eyebrows of Andrea and Laura. "But you were asleep." Leaning down he gave her a gentle but lengthy kiss.

Standing by the door, Frank, Callie, Andrea and Laura watched the touching reunion. Several moments later, Vanessa glanced at Frank and the others, motioning them closer.

Joe stood by the bed clutching Vanessa's hand, wanting to be as close to her as possible, knowing soon she'd be out of his life for good. Seeing her now, injured and in obvious pain, had only strengthened his resolve to end their relationship. Despite the agreement he'd made with Frank to discuss it with her first, Joe knew he had to break up with her for her own protection.

"They told me a little bit about what happened," Vanessa said, glancing at her mother and Laura. "I can't believe my own cousin tried to kill me – just for the inheritance. If he needed the money that badly I would have given it to him," she said shaking her head.

"What did you say?!" Frank immediately pounced on her words.

"I said I would have given him the money if he needed it that badly. I've got everything I need right here," she repeated, staring at Joe with a smile.

"No, before that," Frank pressed.

"What? About Ryan trying to kill me?" Vanessa asked confused.

"Yes. You mean _Ryan_ is the one who stabbed you?" Frank asked excitedly, ignoring the throat clearing from Laura at his less than tactful choice of words.

"Yes, Ryan is the one who stabbed me," Vanessa replied with a slight shudder.

"Then why did you tell us Joe did it?" Frank said rather insistently.

"WHAT?!" Vanessa cried out, immediately wincing in pain.

"Back off, Frank! You're upsetting her!" Joe ordered glaring at his older brother, before turning back to Vanessa. "Easy, Baby. That's not important right now. You shouldn't be getting upset," he said soothingly.

"I never said that!" Vanessa maintained, ignoring Joe's pleas to remain calm.

"Yes, Van, you did," Frank replied much softer.

Vanessa looked at Joe horrified and close to tears. "When? When did I say that?!" she asked her voice trembling.

"When you first woke up," Frank responded, acutely aware of Joe glowering at him in silence. "We were all here. Remember? I asked if you saw the person who stabbed you. When I asked if you could tell us who it was you said Joe."

"No!" Vanessa cried out again. "No, that's not what I meant! I _did_ see the person who stabbed me, but I didn't know who he was at the time. I was so out of it I don't remember you asking me anything after that!" she insisted as a few tears slid down her cheeks.

"Frank…" Joe said warningly, his anger apparent to everyone.

"Then why did you implicate Joe?" Frank asked, avoiding Joe's lethal gaze like the plague.

"I didn't mean to! I just wanted to know where he was. When he wasn't there, I thought he'd been hurt too." Vanessa looked at her boyfriend tearfully. "Joe, I'm so sorry. I know it wasn't you."

"It's okay, Baby. Forget about it. It's not important," Joe said comfortingly.

"It is important if people think I'm saying you're the one who tried to kill me," Vanessa replied, regaining a bit of poise.

Knowing he was risking a major blowout with Joe, Frank nonetheless posed a question. "Can you tell us exactly what happened that night, Van?"

She nodded. Giving Joe a smile that said _'I'm okay. I can do this,'_ they finally learned exactly what had transpired that night.

"After the pizza arrived, Joe yelled down the hall to let me know it was there. I told him I'd be right out. A minute later, I heard a knock on the door. I assumed it was the delivery guy again. But the second the door opened, Joe started yelling and I could hear what sounded like a fight. I came running down the hall just as Joe yelled at me to get out of the apartment. When I got to the living room Joe and some guy were fighting. I know now it was Ryan, but at the time I had no idea who it was." Vanessa stopped and shook her head, looking almost guilty.

"Honey, if this is too difficult for you now…" Andrea began, knowing Vanessa would simply have to repeat everything for the police in the very near future.

"No, I'm fine, Mom," Vanessa replied. "I was just thinking if I had only stayed in the bedroom, or gotten out of the apartment like Joe told me to none of this would have happened."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, now caught up in the story, but still having nothing more than flashing pieces of memory from that night.

"You were easily overpowering Ryan. Another few seconds and he would have been out cold. But when I ran into the room you turned to look at me. I distracted you for just a second but it was long enough for Ryan to get in one lucky punch. You went down, hard.

"By then Ryan was blocking the way to the door so I started to run back to the bedroom. My cell phone was in there so I knew I could call 911. But he came after me and I realized I'd never make it to the bedroom so I ran in the bathroom and locked the door." Vanessa stopped and rubbed her temple. "I had screamed pretty loud when I first ran into the living room and saw you fighting with him. I thought for sure someone must have heard it and called the police. I thought I'd be safe in there until they arrived. Especially when he didn't come after me right away." Vanessa frowned in puzzlement and looked at Frank. "Why didn't he? I mean if he wanted me dead, and Joe was pretty much out of it, why did he wait so long to come after me?"

"We never got to that part of the story," Laura said, explaining why Vanessa didn't know about Joe's terrifying episode of forced drug use.

"He needed me out of the way too. While you were in the bathroom, he shot me full of LSD," Joe explained, trying to control his anger at Ryan when Vanessa gasped and her eyes filled with tears again. "I can't remember anything that happened that night," he shrugged.

"You named Joe as the primary beneficiary in your will," Frank explained. "Simply killing you wasn't enough, because then Joe would have gotten your inheritance. But if it appeared that Joe killed you in a drug induced rage – and he couldn't remember otherwise – then your share of the inheritance would automatically go to Ryan."

"He planted drugs in my gym bag too," Joe said.

"Are…are you all right?" Vanessa asked looking at Joe with concern.

"I'm fine now," Joe said softly, smiling at her.

Nodding, Vanessa continued with the story. "Eventually he came back and picked the lock on the bathroom door. I tried to run past him but he grabbed me and dragged me to the kitchen. I hit him a few times. Even broke a glass and tried to cut him with it. Anything to get away from him."

"He said you put up a hell of a fight," Joe said, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Apparently not good enough though. He managed to grab the knife off the counter and…and…" Vanessa's eyes clouded over as she relived the awful attack.

"We pretty much know what happened from there, Van," Frank assured her. "Our biggest concern was who it was who actually stabbed you. Since Joe can't remember…"

"Well, it wasn't you!" Vanessa said forcefully, looking at Joe, before her voice softened. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked glancing at his arm, the puncture wound made even more visible after his ordeal earlier in the afternoon.

"Positive," Joe leaned down and kissed her.

Just as they broke apart, the phone rang. Being closest to it, Laura answered. She listened, responded with a few monosyllables and hung up smiling.

"That was your father," Laura beamed at Joe. "The restraining order has been officially lifted."

"Guess that means I can't turn you in for a reward," Frank joked, looking at his brother hopefully.

Joe stared back, the last of his anger at Frank's interrogation of Vanessa quickly draining away. "Nope. I can do this legally now," he replied with a grin as he bent down again and kissed Vanessa with a little more enthusiasm.

"One question," she requested when Joe pulled back. "What restraining order?"

Before Joe had a chance to reply, the door burst open as Phil, Tony, Chet and Biff all tramped into the room carrying balloons, flowers and several pizza boxes from Prito's.

"Mmmm," Vanessa sniffed appreciatively. "Smells a whole lot better than that stuff they try and pass off as food here. I'll take two slices with everything."

"Uh, are you sure you're allowed to have that?" Joe asked.

"Just try and stop me," she winked.

Once the pizza had been devoured and Fenton Hardy had joined the group, Frank asked something that had been bothering him all afternoon.

"Ryan's never been to Bayport before," Frank pointed out to his father. "How did he know about that old barn?"

"During his confession at the station he said when realized he'd have to get rid of Joe he wanted to do it somewhere isolated, where there would be virtually no chance of anyone stumbling on to what he was doing.

"He was having lunch at the diner downtown and happened to be sitting next to a couple of realtors from the company that is handling the sale of the Beeson property. They were discussing razing the old barn because it was a safety hazard. With the warm weather, they were afraid some kids might decide it would make a good playhouse and get hurt. And they'd be liable.

"Later that afternoon, Ryan went to the realty office and asked about the property. He got directions and told them he'd drive by it and get back to them if he was interested in it."

As Frank nodded in satisfaction, Chet turned to Vanessa with a question.

"So, Van, what are you going to do with all that cash? How about buying a few trinkets for your best friends?" he suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

Taking Joe's hand, Vanessa looked at him lovingly before turning to Chet. "As a matter of fact, I AM going to spend some of it on my best friend," she replied.

"Best _friend_?" Chet repeated, feigning disappointment "Singular? As in one person?"

"Uh-huh," Vanessa grinned at him. "As soon as I'm all better, the first thing I'm going to do is take my hero on a nice long, well-deserved vacation," she replied returning her gaze to Joe. "The rest of it goes into savings."

Amid the laughter and teasing, Joe looked away uncomfortably, unnoticed by everyone but Frank.

'_He's going to go through with it,'_ Frank thought in disbelief. _'He's still going to break up with her.'_

"Good idea, Van. You'll get married one day and want to buy a house. That money will come in handy then," Frank said, looking pointedly at Joe hoping he'd come to his senses and change his mind.

Several hours later, after their friends had departed, Andrea gladly gave up the uncomfortable cot in Vanessa's room to Joe, knowing her daughter was in good hands. Giving Vanessa a gentle hug and a kiss, Andrea left for home and her first good night's sleep in days. Promising to return the next day, Fenton and Laura also departed, leaving Frank and Callie alone with Joe and Vanessa.

While Callie and Vanessa talked quietly, Frank tapped his brother on the shoulder and jerked his head towards the door, indicating he wanted Joe to join him outside the room. Once out in the hall, Frank speared his younger brother with a look of disappointment.

"I can't believe you're going through with this," he shook his head in frustration.

"I don't have a choice, Frank. I can't take the risk she'll get hurt again because of me," Joe replied obviously depressed about the whole thing.

Frank stared at Joe a moment before slamming his fist against the wall. "Damn it, Joe! If you go through with this it'll be the biggest mistake of your life!"

He was met with complete silence.

"Don't you think I worry about the same thing? But I didn't break up with Callie – I _married_ her!"

"Yeah, well, you don't seem to attract trouble the way I do," Joe looked away not wanting to see how disappointed his brother was with him.

"You know if you just used the common sense God gave you, you'd be asking Vanessa to _marry_ you, not breaking up with her!" Frank remarked, staring down the hall into space.

Joe's head whirled around and his eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped. _'Does he know? How could he? I've been so careful. __**Nobody**__ knows!' _Watching his brother a moment longer, Joe decided it was just an offhanded comment that hit too close to home.

The door opened and Callie walked out, breaking the strained silence between Frank and Joe. She slipped an arm around Frank's waist and smiled up at him. "You ready to go?"

"To an evening home alone with my beautiful wife?" Frank leaned down and kissed her, hoping Joe would see what he'd be missing out on if he broke up with Vanessa. "I'm always ready for that."

"Night, Joe," Callie waved as she and Frank headed for the elevators.

Wordlessly, Frank looked back over his shoulder, giving his brother a final look that made his feelings about Joe's decision crystal clear. Sighing heavily, Joe pasted a smile on his face and walked back into Vanessa's room.

Vanessa turned at the sound, smiling as she held her hand out to Joe. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Joe replied, sitting in the chair next to the bed. He took her outstretched hand in his and held it, gazing into her eyes, trying to soak up everything about her.

"You okay?" Vanessa asked. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Fine," Joe said, as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Just grateful you're still with me."

"Well, I intend to be with you forever," she squeezed his hand.

Joe nodded, unable to speak over the lump in his throat. As her eyes slowly closed and she fell asleep, Joe continued to stare at her long into the night, knowing forever was going to come much too soon.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: TraSan, your last comment had me howling! Yes, he is being a chowder head, but I doubt Vanessa will put up with it for very long. ;-) 

Well, this is it – the last chapter. Hope everyone enjoyed the story and the conclusion meets your expectations. Thank you to EVERYONE who read - and reviewed; special thanks to Pandora Jazz, TraSan and Cheryl! Even when I was having a tremendously bad day, your reviews ALWAYS made me smile:-) 

**Under The Influence**

**Chapter 33**

One week later, Vanessa was back home in the apartment she and Joe shared, having made considerable progress in her recovery. Surrounded by a cocoon of pillows, Vanessa smiled as she gazed at the multitude of brochures spread out on her lap, not missing the few that had fallen between the cushions of the couch. Plucking them out of their hiding place, she looked at the photos of serene bikini-clad sunbathers, and young couples sharing a kiss on the beach under the romance of a full moon. She sighed contentedly, thinking that very soon it would be she and Joe who were sharing moonlit kisses in a tropical paradise. 

"I can't believe it's been a year since we went to Antigua with Frank and Callie," she called out to Joe in the kitchen. "It doesn't seem like it was that long ago." She smiled as Joe suddenly appeared at her side with a glass of iced tea.

"Thanks." She took the glass. As her hand brushed up against Joe's, he quickly pulled back as if he'd been the recipient of an electrical shock. Frowning, Vanessa took a sip of the tea, watching her boyfriend carefully. "Are you okay?" she asked shifting her long legs and causing a few brochures to fall to the floor.

In a flash, Joe bent down to retrieve them. As he leaned over to place them back in her lap, Vanessa attempted to kiss him on the cheek, causing Joe to abruptly pull away once again. Walking to the opposite end of the coffee table, Joe took a seat in the chair – as far away from Vanessa as he could possibly be without leaving the room altogether. 

"I'm fine," Joe replied, lifting his own glass to his lips for a drink.

Furrowing her brow in concentration, Vanessa added Joe's latest bizarre actions to the list. Ever since she'd been released from the hospital, Joe had been acting very peculiar. Always demonstrative and overly affectionate, Joe was often teased by friends and family alike for not being able to keep his hands, or his lips, off Vanessa. However, since she'd come home, Joe had been quiet and moody, kissing her only occasionally and making a concerted effort not to touch her at all unless she specifically asked for his help with something.

"This vacation will be even better," Vanessa said, trying to draw him out. "Because I won't have to share you with Frank. I'll have you all to myself." She winked and grinned wickedly.

Joe almost smiled at the memory of the enchanted island vacation. Sadly, he wondered if he would have spent less time with Frank and more time with Vanessa had he known it would be their last vacation together.

Getting nothing more from Joe than a half-hearted attempt at a grin, Vanessa decided it was time to stop tip-toeing around him and get right to the point. Pushing the brochures onto the floor, she put her glass down on the end table with a dull thud and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Okay, start talking," she ordered. "Something's bothering you and I want to know what it is…now!"

Joe stopped in mid-gulp, his eyes widening in shock, taken completely off guard by his girlfriends heated request.

"Well…I'm waiting. Let's hear it!" Vanessa demanded, more angry at simply being left in the dark than she was at Joe himself.

Realizing there was no way out, Joe smiled wanly. "Can I have a minute to kinda collect my thoughts? I wasn't planning on doing this for another week or so."

Vanessa lifted her arm slightly so she could clearly see the watch on her wrist. "You've got sixty seconds," she replied in a clipped voice, "starting now."

Vanessa's eyes vacillated between her watch and her boyfriend, certain this was the longest sixty seconds of her life. Joe, on the other hand, was sure the minute went by much too quickly.

"Time's up," Vanessa announced and proceeded to stare at Joe, refusing to be denied an explanation.

'_Just do it,'_ Joe thought, realizing he'd never been so nervous in all his life. He suddenly wondered how he was going to cope, how he was going to survive the next sixty plus years without Vanessa by his side. _'Stop it! I know this is the right thing to do…I think…'_

"Okay, now that's two minutes. Exactly how many thoughts do you need to collect?" Vanessa asked wryly.

"Sorry," Joe mumbled.

_"You'll be making the biggest mistake of your life!"_ Joe heard Frank's angry words and tried to push them to the back of his mind. _"Use the common sense God gave you!"_

Shaking off his brother's comments and ignoring how 'right' they felt, Joe sat up and straightened his shoulders.

"Before I say anything else I have to tell you…I have to make sure you know…you're the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you, Van. More than I've ever loved anybody in my life.

Vanessa felt tears in her eyes at the tender words. But the words of love didn't mask the ominous tone in Joe's voice.

"All this stuff that happened with Ryan, it made me realize something. Something I wasn't willing to admit until now. I mean I always thought I could handle anything that came up. I could always keep you…safe. And now, especially now, I know that's just not true," Joe said miserably.

Vanessa saw the flash of guilt in his eyes. A look she had become all too familiar with over the years.

"It wasn't your fault," she said softly as a tiny rivulet of fear poked its way into her heart. There was something different about that look this time, as if Joe had resigned himself to something; something that was tearing him apart. "That's what this is about, isn't it? You think it's your fault that I got hurt. Because you were here and couldn't prevent it."

Joe shook his head and looked away. _'You know me so well, Van. How am I going to get along without you?'_

"Well, you're wrong, Joe," Vanessa said, gingerly shifting on the couch, getting a little closer to Joe.

"Am I?" Joe looked back. "I was right here, Vanessa, in the same room and I couldn't stop him." 

"You couldn't stop him because I distracted you. That's the _only_ reason. But I refuse to take the blame and I won't let you do it either. The only person who is to blame here is Ryan," she said, moving a few more inches.

"It still doesn't change the fact that you were hurt."

"True, but it still wasn't your fault," Vanessa said adamantly.

"What about all the other times?" Joe challenged her.

"What other times?" Vanessa replied warily. "I've never been stabbed before."

"No, but how many times have you had a gun held to your head? How many times have you been taken hostage? How many times have you been kidnapped and offered back to me in exchange for evidence or information? And what's gonna happen when some crackpot decides to hurt me by really hurting you? Don't tell me that could never happen, because we both know that's not true," Joe said his voice calm and steady. "As long as you're with me, you will always be in danger."

"Joe, you've always come through. No matter what's happened you've always gotten me out of it," Vanessa responded, not liking where this conversation was heading.

"So far. But one day the odds might catch up and I may not find you in time."

"Given your track record, I'm willing to take that chance," Vanessa said confidently.

"Well, I'm not," Joe replied quietly. "I want you to be safe, Vanessa. Always. And the only way I can be sure that will happen is if I'm no longer a part of your life. As soon as you're better, I'm moving out."

Vanessa stared at him shocked, hurt, angry and deeply touched. Joe was trying to break up with her. And he was doing it not because he didn't love her anymore – but because he _did_, more than he ever had before. Sliding down the couch another inch or so, Vanessa was now seated directly across from Joe, staring into his eyes.

"No," she said, calmly yet firmly. "Absolutely not."

"Excuse me?" Joe asked a little stunned. He'd expected yelling, screaming, rage, fury, anger, maybe some tears but not this.

"I said no. You are not breaking up with me," Vanessa repeated. "I had to fight off half the girls at Bayport High and even more when we got to college to keep you. If you think you're going to dump me now over something some criminal who couldn't find his way out of a paper bag _might_ do sometime in the next sixty years…well, you've got another thing coming, pal." Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest, daring Joe to challenge her.

"I see," Joe replied, trying not to smile. Sighing, he looked at the determination on his girlfriend's face and heard Frank's prediction loud and clear. _"She'll give you the fight of your life. And she'll win!"_

"I know how hard it is for you, when someone tries to use me against you," Vanessa said, a gentleness in her tone. "And I know how scared you were when Ryan stabbed me."

"Do you?" Joe asked skeptically.

"I imagine you felt pretty much the same way I do when I get those middle of the night phone calls from Frank or you father," she said softly.

"I know what I do is dangerous," Joe relented, "but it's my choice."

"You're right," Vanessa concurred. "And being with you is _my_ choice."

Reaching out, she took both of his hands in hers. "I know you just want me to be safe. But your leaving me won't guarantee that. I could walk out the door tomorrow and get hit by a bus."

"Now there's a happy thought," Joe said dryly.

"I've never felt safer or more protected than I have since I've been with you. If you break up with me now, the only thing that will happen is we'll both be miserable. So, it's just not an option. You're stuck with me. I don't care if I have to drag you off to some secluded island I bought with my inheritance and hold you hostage for the rest of your life."

"You'd do that?" Joe asked as Vanessa rose from the couch.

"In a heartbeat. Face it, Joe Hardy. You're mine – _forever_," Vanessa murmured seductively as she crawled into Joe's lap and firmly pressed her lips to his.

As he melted into her passionate kiss, Joe's last coherent thought was there was no one on earth he'd rather have holding him hostage than Vanessa Bender.

THE END


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